Strive
by Watermelonsmellinfellon
Summary: Tom Riddle finds that he does not like it when Professor Potter doesn't pay him any attention. Something should be done about that. A/N: Dimension/Time-Travel? Grey!Harry Morally Dubious Dumbledore! Tom is Obsessed. Unhealthy Attachment. Limited 3rd, Tom's POV. Read the Author's Notes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N; Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

-I have up to chapter 16 written already. This  
fic is posted on AO3 also. Many people on my  
other Tumblr, ' **mister-tom-a-dildo-lover** ' were  
asking me to post the fic here as well.

-I have an Outline and have been steady with  
this fic. I know what I'm doing. Anyone who  
says otherwise is just a moron. I wanted a  
Professor Harry fic so bad, and this one takes  
a different twist.

-Mostly Tom's POV only. Harry gets a chapter  
for his POV every 8 chapters though.

-Dimension **or** Time Travel. Grey Harry. Morally  
effed up Dumbledore. This is an AU. Things are  
different and stuff you don't know about has  
happened. Don't make assumptions. Keep an  
open mind.

* * *

Professor Potter wasn't tall. Not short per se, but definitely not tall. He stood over almost every girl, but was significantly under almost all of the boys.

In between.

Tom wasn't particularly interested. The man, whom wasn't that much older than Tom and his fellow seventh years, didn't seem the type to be very capable of anything but sitting and looking pretty.

And honestly, he had skin that would no doubt make all of the teen girls jealous, and probably Abraxas as well.

His eyes were a bright shade of green that none of them had ever seen on a human before. His hair had never been brushed apparently. The black locks flopped this way and that, and Potter seemed unconcerned about how they presented him.

The man was attractive, true, but he didn't seem like much beyond being a pretty face. A 'trophy wife' as some Muggles would say.

"Mr. Riddle, perhaps you'd like to come up and demonstrate a friendly spar with me?"

His musings were cut off by the object of his attention.

Professor Potter looked strangely calm and not as happy as he had been when the students had walked in. Gone were his wide smile and the Dumbledore-like twinkle in his eyes. All Tom could see now was something dark and a bit disturbing that didn't belong there.

Still, Tom would not do anything to ruin his 'good boy' image, and gave the man a charming smile. "If you would like, sir," he replied.

Potter waved him forward as he took a stance and erected a silvery, transparent barrier around the dueling platform he'd summoned some time before class had begun. He had cast non-verbally.

Already, Tom's wariness was rising. If the man could do such advanced magic without having to say a word, then what else was he capable of? And should Tom be more on his guard than he had previously decided to be?

"I presume you know how to begin a true, wizard's duel, correct Mr. Riddle?"

Potter's voice flowed across Tom's senses in a smooth purr. Almost as if he was an animal in his natural habitat and was completely comfortable with the situation he was in.

Tom smirked, feeling confident. "Of course, sir."

To prove his point, he held his wand in front of his face, parallel to his nose and perpendicular to the floor. Potter mimicked the action.

There was no warning, Tom merely cast the first spell he could think of, the Bone-Breaking Curse. Borderline Dark Magic. Potter deflected it with a wave of his wand, the curse slamming into the barrier and dissipating.

Potter cocked his head to the side, but made no other movements. Tom's teeth grinded together. It was as if Potter was mocking him. Tom did not like being made a mockery of.

He raised his wand to cast again, only to find his wand slipping from his grip and soaring across the room and into Potter's open palm.

No words. No wand movement. It just flew into the man's hand.

If that wasn't startling enough, the wood glowed upon contact, and Potter smiled and gave it a stroke. The image of those thin and elegant fingers stroking Tom's wand, would forever be burned into Tom's memory along with the day he'd finally lost in a duel.

The man smiled and stepped forward to return the weapon. "You are extremely powerful, but we'll need to work on your ability to read body language. You could have anticipated my actions had you looked at me close enough. I have to wiggle my hand a bit to do it wandlessly."

Turning to the class, the man added, "We'll be working a lot of physical fitness as well, to help you protect yourselves better. I'm looking forward to the upcoming term."

And for the rest of the lesson, Tom's gaze was fixated on his wand, that was strangely warm, in the place a hand would hold it. As if Potter's hand had burned a permanent memory of his body heat into the wood.

And the magical connection between Tom's core and his wand thrummed even stronger than before.

Tom suddenly felt need. He didn't know of what sort, but he knew that it was strong and if he didn't satisfy it, hell would be easy compared to what his wrath could make happen.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

-Since everyone seemed to like, here's  
chapter 2 early. Chapter length varies.  
Some chapters are long and others are  
short. So be prepared.

* * *

Tom Riddle had never experienced this before. Everywhere he went, the professors and even the parents of his classmates, pandered to him. As if they sensed that he was better. That he deserved special treatment apart from the other students.

Slughorn was the worst of the lot, though his adoration was beneficial in a way.

Still, Tom was used to being the favourite, and when he did not automatically become Professor Potter's favourite, he was livid.

Why wasn't the man impressed by him? Why didn't he shower Tom with praise like everyone else - sans Dumbledore of course - did? Besides telling Tom that he was 'powerful', nothing else had been uttered in Tom's direction.

Not even points.

Professor Potter seemed to be, if the language could be pardoned, a hard-arse when it came to points. The man had high standards for his students and was incredibly unimpressed with the class overall. So the fact that Tom was exactly where a seventh year should be, in Potter's eyes at least, did not make him stand out.

Tom was average.

Never before had Tom been average. And it was sickening.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was not in any way average. He had successfully cast a Killing Curse at the age of sixteen! Three times in a row! He'd also used the Imperius Curse on a multitude of occasions. If he wasn't so limited by the Ministry's pathetic laws, he'd be able to show Professor Potter just how talented the Heir of Slytherin truly was.

* * *

It might have come to mind that Tom was… jealous.

Ever since coming to Hogwarts, Tom had been the top of the class, proving his intelligence and showing avid interest in his professors' teachings. Teachers and professors liked it when students took their words seriously and did well, so obviously the most successful child was the one the educator was biased toward. Tom had gotten used to it.

But this new professor wasn't amazed by him and was instead giving his attention to those who needed it. That left Tom _without_ his attention. And Tom found that he really wanted it for some reason. Like it was something he needed.

Like he _needed_ to prove something to Professor Potter.

He would do whatever it took to get the man's attention. To have it be focused on him and only on him.

It was something worth striving for.

Though he couldn't understand why.

* * *

 **A/N: The first is done!**

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

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-Here comes Tom's attempt to impress!

* * *

Tom Riddle glared heatedly at the young professor who was too busy talking to some unknown Gryffindor, to even bother looking in Tom's direction.

Tom's… _associates_ had noticed his obvious interest in their new professor, though some of them couldn't understand exactly what it meant. Did Tom hate the man? Did he dislike the man? Did he want the man sexually?

They were all of different opinions regarding the situation and Tom felt no need to give them any answers any time soon. Why should he? It wasn't as if they earned an answer.

So Tom tried to come up with some kind of plan in order to get the man to pay attention to him. By meeting the man's high standards, Tom had managed to reach a plateau so to speak, in his magical ability.

He wasn't certain what the man's opinion on Dark Magic was, so it wasn't like he could impress with his vast knowledge on the subject. He would have to pull something amazing. Something that not many others could accomplish.

So it was either becoming an Animagus, or learning the Patronus Charm.

He had heard some talk the other day on how Professor Potter was accomplished in both, so obviously Tom should strive to outdo the man by learning both.

Tom remained after class, waiting for the room to clear so he could ask the man personally. Anything if it meant having the man's attention focused solely on him.

"Professor, I was wondering if I could borrow your time for a few moments?" Tom asked, voice casually even and absolutely hiding everything he was thinking.

Potter smiled. "What is the problem, Mr. Riddle?"

"It's not so much of a problem, more of an inconvenience," Tom began, pulling a book from his satchel. Flipping it open, he turned the page toward the older wizard and asked, "The book says that only happy memories can fuel a Patronus, so is it impossible for someone who had never had a happy memory, to cast the spell?"

When he caught the man's eye, he saw something he hadn't expected.

Sadness.

The man looked incredibly sad all of a sudden, but he did answer anyway.

"Generally, people think that is how to power the charm, but it's not true. I learned the spell when I was thirteen and I struggled to fully perform it because I didn't have good enough memories. I only ended up managing to cast it because a revelation involving a Time-Turner, proved that I could.

"I don't use memories, because I have few that are actually capable of powering my Patronus. I use thoughts."

The man raised his wand and waved it in a simple, circular motion. From the tip came a sliver light but nothing followed.

"That was me using my most powerful, happy memory. But when I use a thought…"

He waved the wand again, and the slight mist gathered into the form of a serpent, of which specie Tom could not ascertain.

The snake curled around Potter's shoulders.

"A thought that involves something joyous, could be enough to power the spell. Someone who hasn't had a happy moment in their life would struggle, just as much as a person who has lived a happy life, would struggle because none of their memories stand out enough.

"It's also faster when casting in danger. You won't have time to stand by and think of a memory you need when you're faced with Dementors. Using what you have ready is simply best in my own opinion."

Tom felt a weight completely float off his shoulders.

He could definitely do it.

"Thank you, sir."

Tom gave a small bow of appreciation and departed.

There was work to be done, and a man to impress.

* * *

 **A/N: The first is done!**

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

-Tom needs some help and has to do the unthinkable. Ask.

* * *

Using the Patronus Charm was a lot more difficult that Tom would have first assumed. Other than the swapping out a memory for a happy thought, it turned out that it required a strong will and powerful magic.

Tom had powerful magic, and his will was strong enough to cast the Imperius, but apparently, the people he'd cursed were just weak, so being able to overthrow them wasn't anything special.

This was on a completely different level. He couldn't understand why he was struggling so much. He'd get a wisp of silver light, before it would sort of die off. Like the power had been cut.

Frustrated, and confused, Tom resigned himself to doing the one thing he abslutely hated.

He asked for help.

Professor Potter was in his office like usual, grading assignments. The man didn't assign written work often, but even _he_ couldn't avoid it for too long. N.E.W.T.s were coming up after all.

Tom knocked on the door, and was relieved to be allowed entrance.

"Ah, Mr. Riddle. What can I do for you?"

The man's spectacles were on the table. He looked a little tired, but overall, was the same as he had been hour previous in their class.

"I'm struggling with the Patronus Charm," Tom admitted reluctantly, though he did so with grace. He was a Slytherin after all, and even Slytherins failed with dignity.

"I had a feeling you would."

Tom very nearly gaped at the blatant statement, but he was better than that. Instead, he focused his displeased look on the man, practically demanding the reason behind such conviction.

Potter merely smiled apologetically and said, "You have a Dark Core, Mr. Riddle. Dark Magic comes easiest to you. Light Magic will be what you struggle with most, for it is your natural opposite. You've noticed that your Dark spells are more powerful than your Light ones, I'm sure."

Tom almost nodded. Almost fell for it, but instead, he kept a blank face.

"Don't feel bad," the older wizard encouraged. "I know a lot of magic that my people consider to be Dark, but is Neutral to your Ministry. Not every country views magic the same way, so what you dabble in over here, could be perfectly legal in India, for you all you know."

The man said no more about Dark Magic, and instead said, "I am Grey, so I evenly shift toward either magics without issue. Your body and core are rebelling, but you need to force control over both. Then and only then will you succeed. I suggest meditation. It will take time and effort, but it helps in every branch of magic, so it would benefit you greatly."

Tom nodded, finally understanding what the man was saying.

He wanted to groan very badly. But he _didn't_. He had better control than that.

With a nod, Tom nodded his head to the man. "Thank you for your advice, professor."

The man smiled. "I wish you the best of luck."

Tom didn't need luck. He needed control.

He'd succeed. Eventually.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

Meditation.

It wasn't something that Tom felt the need to do often. He had great self-control, and finding the time to set aside for such a pointless venture, hadn't been necessary.

But now, according to Professor Potter, he had to delve inside of himself in order to tame his magic. Because he was not naturally compatible with Light Magic, he would have a more difficult time performing said magic. It was a frustrating revelation.

Tom would not accept being average in the eyes of his professor. It didn't matter that the man didn't know him for as long as the others had and therefore hadn't gotten a feel for Tom's personality. It was simply a _need_ that Tom had.

With his amazing discovery of the Come and Go Room, Tom knew that if he truly wanted to meditate in peace, he could do so without issue. It was merely a case of timing and how long he would need.

He would most likely have to sacrifice his nights of sleep in order to see it through, though if done properly, meditation could work as a proper replacement for sleep for a few nights in a row. It could become dangerous if done _too_ many times in a row, which was why it was not recommended for more than two nights.

Also, Tom couldn't afford to miss sleep. He needed to keep himself fresh and well for classes.

Spells only went so far after all.

* * *

Some Muggles had very good ideas. Even Tom could admit it.

The whole idea of a mental structure within the mind, which was used to stabilise memory and thoughts, was genius. And Wizards _did_ have a similar application in Occlumency.

Tom was of the sort to use whatever he could in order to better himself. Even if he didn't like the people who created said method.

Still, Tom was working on fashioning himself a Mind Palace of his own.

His defences had already been set, and the foundations for his own mental Hogwarts, were the first things to be placed. He worked on the walls next, and planned to save all the rooftops and towers for the end.

No one in his current environment would dare to use Legilimency on a student. That was if he excluded Dumbledore. Only that old coot thought he was so sneaky that he could blatantly break the law and not get caught.

Still, his hard work would be finished by the end of term, so he didn't have to worry much about external assault.

The meditation would also help him build stronger mental defences. Using his magic to erect magical protections, not just physical ones.

Tom was willing to do whatever it took to impress his professor.

Anything at all.

* * *

Tom nearly intruded upon a conversation between Professor Potter and Dumbledore, that was taking place in the middle of an abandoned corridor. He'd gone to turn the corner and found himself taking a giant step back, leaning against the cold stone wall in order to listen to what they were arguing about.

"I'm telling you that he cannot be trusted. Lowering your guard around him will only cause yourself harm," Dumbledore said, sounding serious and annoyed.

Tom scowled. Dumbledore was always trying to force his opinions on others. It was annoying.

"Mr. Dumbledore, I never let my guard down for anything. I am quite aware of the actions of _everyone_ around me, as well as their motivations."

Professor Potter sounded dangerous there. As he had said ' **everyone** ', his voice had lowered almost two octaves at least. It sent a shiver down Tom's spine.

As Tom was who he was, he could guess perfectly who Dumbledore was trying to warn him away from.

Tom Riddle of course. Because to Dumbledore, Tom was monstrous.

Well, now he was. But back then…

Dumbledore needed to mind his own business. And apparently, Professor Potter agreed.

"Good day, Dumbledore," the man said curtly.

Footsteps sounded suddenly, and Tom didn't get a chance to throw up a disillusionment charm before the young professor came around the corner and without blinking an eye, grabbed Tom's elbow and started hauling him along.

And Tom could only wonder what was about to happen.

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

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* * *

Tom was silent as his professor dragged him along. He'd been caught, which was something that had never happened before. Sure he'd been blamed for things he hadn't done, but he'd never been caught for anything he _personally_ had done before. It was a blow to his pride.

Though if anyone were to discover him, he was at least glad that it wasn't Dumbledore. Professor Potter, Tom could respect. But not Dumbledore.

Potter lead him all the way down to his office on the Third Floor, and shut and locked the door behind them.

"Sit," the man ordered.

Tom was so very close to not doing it, but then again, it wouldn't look good on his image.

He sat in the chair before the man's desk, and very carefully measured the other man's actions.

Potter waved his wand, and a House Elf appeared suddenly, bowing their head toward the wizard. "Yes, Mr. Harry?"

Potter sighed, looking annoyed, though not exactly at the Elf. "Mipsy, can you please get us some tea and finger foods? We'll most likely miss supper."

Potter asked. He actually used the word 'please' when talking to a House Elf. And the Elf's ears flapping excitedly, as it nodded!

Professor Potter sent him an unreadable look when the Elf Apparated away. "There's no need for shock. Common decency isn't that difficult to understand."

"But they're Elves, sir. Servants. You don't need to ask them," Tom pointed out, not comprehending.

Potter sighed and seated himself then, giving Tom a look that made his young face appear ancient. "Mr. Riddle, just because they are doing their job - _and yes, at Hogwarts it is considered a job and not forced servitude_ \- doesn't mean that they don't deserve kindness. To the Blood Purist Elite, you and I don't deserve common decency because we aren't Pureblooded. Goblins aren't allowed common decency because they aren't human, as Britain's Ministry decrees. To some Gryffindor Supremacists, _you_ don't deserve common decency because you are a Slytherin.

"Does this actually mean that you should not be treated kindly and with the respect you deserve as a living being? Simply because to _some people_ , it is the normal belief?"

Tom twitched, wondering how the man knew that Tom wasn't a Pureblood. Not that it was big news to anyone, still, he was new to the school. Who told him?

And more importantly… the man had a point! Which sort of annoyed him and sort of amazed him.

Professor Potter was very good at shock and awe.

The Elf popped in, placing a large tray on the desk between the two wizards. Almost without notice, Tom actually thanked the creature, and was only made aware of his action when the being actually gaped at him for a moment, before nodding and popping away.

A glance at Potter showed the man smiling into his tea cup.

Tom reached for a sandwich and decided to take a few bites while Potter decided how to handle the situation of catching Tom peeping.

"I take it… that you understand what Dumbledore was talking about?" Potter asked after a moment, thankfully when Tom's mouth was empty.

"I suppose I could hypothesise," the teen admitted blandly.

The professor nodded. "We both knew you were there."

Tom almost choked on his piece of bread!

 _How?_

How did they know?!

"Your magic isn't very well hidden. You'll have to learn to disguise your presence. Also, the Headmaster and the Deputy are keyed into the wards and can feel where the students are at all times."

That revelation was not good. Not good at all.

"At least, those students who aren't good at disguising themselves," Potter amended with a smirk. As if he found Tom's panic humorous. Though Tom wasn't reacting outwardly, so how the man knew was anyone's guess.

"Your magic is heavily shaded, if you get my meaning. You're one of the few people in the castle with such magic, which makes it easier to pinpoint you."

Great. Bloody fantastic.

"As for my sudden desire to sup with you, it's more of a desire to impart some advice. My words to Albus are not to be taken lightly, Mr. Riddle. I am _very_ much aware of the actions of _everyone_ here. It's best that you keep that in mind. Spread it to your acquaintances if necessary."

The hard look that was sent his way also sent shivers up his spine. But Tom was the personification of Slytherin, and he merely smiled calmly and thanked the man for his 'advice'.

 **Warning**. It was a warning if Tom ever heard one.

But a warning about what? That was the question.

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello, people!**

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* * *

With Patronus practice taking up so much of his time lately, Tom hadn't had a chance to enforce his control over certain… _folks_ who felt brave enough to start an uprising.

Certain others had begun to get a little too sure of themselves recently and Tom had let it slide because he was curious as to what they would try.

Tom wasn't threatened. In fact, the only people in his life that he could honestly say threatened him, were Dumbledore and Professor Potter. Anyone else would be easy to overcome simply because he was better at magic and manipulation.

So of course, there was always that one who got bored with complacency.

Eldrid Avery.

Tom smirked at the small gathering the other had managed to scrounge together. However, the rest of the students in the Common Room simply watched on, their eyes full of knowing.

"Hello, Eldrid," the Slytherin leader purred. He was immensely pleased to see the few shivers of the others with said student. They were not brave and were barely standing against him.

"It's time to teach you a lesson, Mudblood."

Honestly, some of the Pureblood aristocrats were idiots. Of course this was what made them easy to manipulate and use for his own means, but having to deal with it so often was becoming tiring.

"And how do you plan to do that?"

Avery smirked, obviously thinking that he had all the answers. Avery's answer was cut off when the teen was suddenly dangling in the air, clutching at his throat as he struggled to breathe.

Tom had been perfecting this particular maneuver for weeks. It was nice to know that he'd managed to get it right.

Avery's comrades backed away, realising that they were on the wrong side.

Eldrid's body descended swiftly, knocking into the three other boys he'd managed to gather to confront Tom.

"That looked like it hurt," said Tom casually. "Perhaps you should pay more attention to where you are walking, Avery."

"Indeed," an unexpected voice rang out, causing the whole of Slytherin to freeze and turn to the entrance of their Common Room. Professor Potter stood there, looking unconcerned despite what had just occurred.

The young man was looking at Avery, who was laying on top of his three goons. "Perhaps you'll learn where you're going eventually. Also, the smart thing is _not_ do this where anyone can walk in if they have the password."

Tom's heartbeat accelerated when the man sent him a very telling look.

"Let's endeavour to not get caught so easily next time," the man said quietly, before turning and sauntering from the room without anything more to say.

Taking that as permission to do as he pleased in the future, Tom turned to his Housemates and said, "Professor Potter has made me abundantly aware that he knows what is going on in this school. He didn't specify exactly what, but I would suggest keeping your wits about you just in case. And unlike our dear friend Avery, don't get caught."

Tom took his leave then. He had some meditation to work on.

* * *

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	8. INTERLUDE I

**A/N: Hello, people!**

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* * *

Harry could tell just by looking out at the students, that a lot of them were not looking forward to the 'celebration' held on Samhain. Yes, Samhain.

In fact, it was some kind of event that began in order to appease the Muggleborns. Not exactly a Hallowe'en feast, because they probably knew nothing about Hallowe'en and trick or treating during the forties, but definitely something was done to make the Muggle raised students feel better.

It wasn't an _actual_ Samhain celebration. Otherwise there would be sacrifices and prayers to the dead.

Harry thought the charmed bats were ridiculous, though he was happy to see Hagrid's enchanted pumpkins all over the place.

Some things hadn't changed.

On the other side of the Head Table, Harry could see Dumbledore eyeing the Slytherin Table like the students were going to do something terrible.

It was something Harry had noticed easily.

Dumbledore seemed to act as if the students were on the cusp of doing mass evil. Harry knew that they were suspicious at times, and that Slytherins tended to be sneakier than others, but to treat an entire House of students as if they were ready to rebel and start problems, was ridiculous.

The man acted as if they were all up and coming Dark Lords, and it was grinding upon Harry's dwindling good nerves.

When Harry had come to this time, he had a plan in mind. He was just going to observe, and not get directly involved with certain things until he felt it was necessary.

Tom Riddle was just as he had expected him to be. Bright, charming, and very talented. However, Tom Riddle was only a seventeen year old student. He was not Harry. He did not have seven decades of experience behind him like Voldemort. He did not live through things that Harry had lived through. To be straight up, Tom was nothing compared to what Harry was. At present at least.

It didn't mean that he didn't consider him a threat in any way. If you leave an opening, of course someone's going to take advantage of it. That didn't necessarily mean that Tom would be the one doing it, but Harry wasn't going to take a chance.

However, he _had_ noticed that Dumbledore contributed a lot to what made the Slytherins so distrustful of everybody.

They did not mingle with the other Houses. And for a man who supposedly preached inter-house unity and friendship, and love, and all those happy and fluffy feelings, Dumbledore was doing a stunning job of pushing everybody away. Keeping them even farther apart from each other.

And the moment that any Slytherin even _looked_ towards someone of the other Houses, Dumbledore's eyes would latch onto them and watch them obsessively.

It was becoming ridiculous. He'd already spoken with Armando Dippet about it. There was something wrong with Dumbledore. Seriously wrong with him. The man was also worried now that someone had brought it to his attention.

Harry didn't care that the man had been friends with Gellert Grindelwald, and possibly lovers. He didn't care that Dumbledore had formally decided he was going to join the man in subjugating Muggles. He however, _did_ care that Dumbledore seemed to forget his roots.

And instead of trying to prevent Tom from becoming another Dark Lord, the man just made it worse. Dumbledore had _witnessed_ the rise of a Dark Lord. He knew the signs to look for. Why did the man exacerbate the situation when he could have helped Tom?

It was too late to help him now. It was too late to try to change his entire demeanor and the way he treated people. He'd been acting as such for years. It was a habit now.

Honestly, Dumbledore had just made everything worse. He made it even harder for anybody to get through to Tom Riddle.

Ever since imparting his advice on the teen, the Slytherins had been even more subdued than usual. And he knew the Tom was some kind of leader in the House, and he knew that others took direction from him. He did not know the inner workings very well, because he hadn't been a Slytherin himself, but he _did_ see leadership easily.

But apparently the Slytherins not getting into trouble and not being blamed for everything going on, was suspicious to Dumbledore. Also, in the past week, the man had been obsessively watching the table at every meal, and - if Harry heard correctly - singling out certain students.

Harry could not blame Dumbledore's strange actions on old age. The man was nowhere even near middle-aged for a wizard. So that wasn't it. This wasn't the eccentric Dumbledore that he had grown up to know. This man was different.

This man was an arsehole. Plain and simple.

Harry was disappointed.

Now, pushing thoughts of Dumbledore aside, Harry considered Tom Riddle once again.

Tom Riddle had an issue with having people's attention. Tom was used to being the best, and was therefore used to being praised and prodded for being the best. Harry acknowledged that he was the best in class, but in his mind, Tom could be better.

And when he did not cater to Tom, Tom went mad. Tom didn't like that Harry wasn't impressed by him. And while he felt a little bad, Tom needed to realise that not everyone in the world would give him what he wanted. That there will always be someone better than him at something.

Slowly, Harry had a feeling that he was breaking past the teen's barriers.

Giving him advice, telling him certain secrets that not many knew, and even coaching him on how to summon a Patronus, was bringing Tom within his realm of reference. Giving him influence over the teen.

If Harry could somehow manage to mellow him out a bit, he might not become a Dark Lord. And if he still did, then maybe he wouldn't be as bad as he was in Harry's time.

Harry didn't want to change him. He wanted to help, but _not_ by forcing him to become what Harry thought he should be. That wasn't right, and Harry had enough examples from Dumbledore on what happened when you control someone's life so entirely, and what happened when that control broke.

Tom, Snape, and even Harry were perfect examples of what having exacting control over people, did to them.

Tom got out. Harry and Snape never did until the man was dead. And even then, Dumbledore somehow _still_ had control over their choices and decisions from beyond the grave.

Harry didn't want to be like that. So he tried to simply curb the teen's darker nature a bit. Keep him focused on other things. Less Dark Lording for now.

Harry wasn't sure what would come of it. But he had hope.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

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* * *

Tom stared down at his wand.

The silver mist shooting from the tip had managed to form a sort of shield, though he was unsure of how sturdy it would be against a Dementor. Still, it was coming along nicely in his opinion. He at least had something to show for his efforts, whereas many his age couldn't summon even a spark.

Most N.E.W.T. students wouldn't even bother.

N.E.W.T.s were the review years. Going over everything they had already learned in order to study for the final exams.

And this was the day that they faced a real life Boggart. They hadn't been able to procure one in any of the former years, leaving only theoretical knowledge to be taught. Tom simply thought that the former Defence professor was lazy.

Professor Potter had literally left before breakfast and returned by the end, explaining that he'd caught a Boggart for his classes. It wasn't that hard.

Tom was… worried. Only a little though. This gave him a chance to learn the weaknesses of his classmates, but it also gave them a chance to learn _his_ weaknesses. And there was no way from shielding your fears from a Boggart, so he was not looking forward to his turn all that much.

Perhaps he could linger in the back of the line?

* * *

"Boggarts are shapeshifters, and will turn themselves into whatever you fear the most," Professor Potter said as he gestured to the armoire beside him. Said piece of furniture was rattling back and forth. "They actually feed off fear, and are considered a distant relative of the Dementor because they are amortal non-beings who feed off of a particular emotion only.

"They are quelled by laughter. Genuine laughter and happiness that they do not comprehend. It is beyond them for some reason that we do not know, because there haven't been much studies on them yet.

"The spell is _Riddikulus_ ," he enunciated slowly. "You need to envision changing the Boggart into something you find amusing. It's a form of transfiguration that can take several tries. Do not try this spell on another person. The effects will not be pleasant and you'll be in Azkaban whether you're underage or not."

After a few tests on certain individuals on how to pronounce the spell, Professor Potter ordered everybody to get into a single-file line around the perimeter of the room, Tom did his very best to take his time, until he was at the very back of the line. Several people offered to allow him to skip ahead of them in line, but he demurred very calmly and denied their offers.

From his position, he would be able to see everything going on around him, as well as possibly not have to face the Boggart at all. It depended on how long the class went. And as they were already ten minutes in, he might be lucky enough to avoid it.

The professor stepped away from the armoire, and flicked his wand. The lock clicked and the door opened abruptly.

Abraxas Malfoy was the one who was at the head of the line, because of course a Malfoy would never be anything but first. Tom rolled his eyes at the thought.

What stepped out of the armoire to face Abraxas, could only be described as ridiculous, pun intended. Before Abraxas could even move to change the Boggart, the entire class - except Tom of course - had begun to laugh.

The Malfoy Heir was apparently incredibly terrified of poorly sewn clothing.

Floating before them all, was a dress that had been sewn terribly. One arm was incredibly long, and the stitching was not only visible, but uneven. It was even more ridiculous that Abraxas Malfoy stuttered as he tried to change the dress.

As the time wore on, Tom realised that a lot of his classmates had incredibly juvenile fears. Everyday things. Things that just weren't that pressing. Minutely, he felt a certain amount of envy and annoyance with his classmates, for being able to have such trivial fears.

Because Tom's fears were not trivial, and he really did not want to be seeing whatever his Boggart would turn into.

There was a spider, a few snakes, a Hoover, and even a demented butcher.

Time was wearing on and Tom had begun to tap an agitated rhythm on his thigh. He wasn't one to fidget, but unfortunately, it seemed that he would not be getting out of this today.

It was his turn. The final student.

Professor Potter was excruciatingly serious as Tom stepped forward to face the Boggart that was currently taking the form of a Sphinx. The great head tilted slightly, and suddenly, the form twisted in on itself, until it was only a blur of colours.

What stood before him wasn't a living being. It was massive, grey, and made his entire body go cold.

He'd never seen one in person, but the Muggle papers had certainly had enough photographs of what were labeled as 'duds'. Those that landed but did not explode like they should have. Those that had been sectioned off.

He was certain that what he was looking at however, was _a lot larger_ than the ones that had been dropped on London.

There was a loud hitching of breath from behind him. Someone else obviously knew what it was.

Professor Potter's own eyes had gone wide and he withdrew his wand very slowly.

"Class, you will all step into the adjoining room and wait. Do so very slowly. As Boggarts take on the abilities or effects of whatever they turn into, we cannot know for certain if this possesses the same danger level as the original and I'd rather not test it."

Tom backed away, not bothering to turn his back on such danger. He wasn't appeased even when he found himself blocked by a green barrier set up by his professor.

The students chattered worriedly.

Potter stepped toward the monstrosity and slowly, the grey bled to black, and a cold chill filled Tom's bones. His fear was maximised suddenly, and he felt as if all the pleasant feelings within him had been sucked away.

The bomb slowly morphed into a Dementor, and Professor Potter waved his wand, allowing his serpent Patronus to come forth and attack his enemy. The snake latched its fangs onto the creature and yanked it into the armoire, where Potter immediately closed and magically locked the door.

There was a moment of stunned silence, until the professor called them back in, though Tom could tell that the man was on high alert now. Whatever training he'd gone through was showing clearly.

"Professor, what was that and why was it so bad?" one of the Gryffindors asked, looking confused.

Tom would think him a fool if he didn't already know that the Pureblood knew nothing of Muggles. The lucky sod.

"I _think_ that was an atomic bomb. Or an almost equally dangerous bomb."

For several seconds, the class waited in silence, adding weight to the words.

Potter sighed. "Many believe that Muggles aren't worth anything and are no better than cattle. The problem is that Muggles don't have magic, so they rely on science. And they use their imaginations and their science to create things. Methods of transportation that allow them to fly without magic. A weapon that can destroy a village the size of Hogsmeade, in one blast. Cameras capable of capturing moving photographs that move for far longer than ten seconds."

Tom cast a small glance toward his peers, noting how some looked skeptical and others looked worried.

"Muggles cannot be ignored, because they are at war right now, and the bomb you just saw, is only one of the many weapons they have created. The smaller bombs are about my shoulders width in length, and hold the same amount of power as a hundred wizards casting _Bombarda Maxima_ , on the same target. Imagine how much damage the bomb you just saw, can cause at its size."

The man left them to consider everything as the class ended.

Tom merely blinked when the professor placed a hand on his shoulder and told him to remain behind.

This wasn't going to be pleasant.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

-It's not an atomic bomb, but it's big like one.  
Harry doesn't know his history very well and  
only knows that he's around the time that the  
US bombed Japan. Tom simply fears a bigger  
bomb that those dropped in the Blitz. Because  
they would cause more devastation.

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	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

-Tom and Harry talk. Harry has a "friend". Can y'all guess who it is?

* * *

Tom was staring very intently at the individual patterns in the wood on Professor Potter's desk. **  
**

Honestly, he wasn't sure of what to feel at the moment. On one hand, his entire class had just learned of what was apparently his greatest fear, and on the other, his professor had just learned of his greatest fear. He didn't know which was worse, and found himself hating both thoughts.

"Tom."

Looking up at the unexpected calling of his name, he found himself staring Professor Potter in the eye. Yet there was no pity to be seen there, nor did Tom find any mockery. His eyes, green as the Killing Curse, simply held knowledge. Knowledge of what though, was still up for consideration.

"Tom, you know that it's perfectly natural to have fears, correct? No person is without some form of fear."

Well _obviously_. That didn't mean he had to like it.

"To fear a bomb isn't foolish. Especially since you reside in one of the cities that were assaulted by them. You know the danger they possess. It's actually prudent of you to realise how dangerous they are.

"Your classmates are blissfully unaware of the true dangers that lie outside of Hogwarts. They sit here in their luxury, content to know that life is fine for them, whereas in other parts of the world, both magical and Muggle, people are being slaughtered for their beliefs and ancestry. It's a gruesome situation, and while I'd prefer it that no child should learn about that kind of thing, I'm happy at least some of the students are emotionally and mentally prepared."

Potter looked down, fingers twisting his wand around. "You have an advantage over most of the school, Tom. You know first hand, what is out there. You know that Muggles aren't as stupid as your Pureblood acquaintances claim they are. And you know what they are capable of now, and what they might be able to do in the future. After all, since when does anyone ever just leave a creation of theirs as it is? Since when does the creator, or someone else, not come along and try to make it better or stronger?"

Cold dread trailed down Tom's spine at the thought of bombs better than the one that his Boggart had become.

People were always refining potions and spells to make them more effective, so what would stop the Muggles from taking apart a bomb in order to learn how to make it better?

He almost shivered at the thought.

"The fact is, Tom, you never got a chance to wear the rosy glasses of innocence that so blind your fellows. Without all that red blocking your vision, you can see the warnings signs flashing before you, and act accordingly. I have faith that should something bad happen, you'll escape to safety pretty easily. The rest of them… not so much."

While minutely flattered at having the man's faith, Tom was confused.

Potter smiled. "In the Muggle world, warning signs are usually red, to caution you. Children are raised to adhere to those signs simply by identifying the colour. However, if they are too busy in their rose tinted world, where everything comes across in various shades of red and pink, they'll miss the warning signs and meander right into dangerous territory."

Oh. A strange metaphor, but an interesting one nonetheless.

"Now, as for fears, I don't think you'll have to worry about your classmates poking fun, especially after the explanation I gave. However, I'm sure that if you are being bothered by anyone, you'll know how to handle it _maturely_ and without drawing attention."

Tom's smile could fell angels. Professor Potter was giving him permission in a roundabout sort of way, to deal with any potential bullies however he saw fit, so long as he didn't make it obvious that he did it. The man would have been a perfect Slytherin.

"Now, pop on off to lunch. I'm sure you're famished after such a grueling class."

Tom stood and shouldered his bag. He turned to leave, but a thought came to mind.

"Sir, why do you fear Dementors?"

Potter removed his glasses and set them on his desk.

"I was almost Kissed once."

Tom's stomach dropped.

"They weren't supposed to be there though. But they kept coming after me, because opposed to my schoolmates, I had experienced horrors that none of them had ever even thought of. So the Dementors were drawn to me. And if the feeling they bring isn't bad enough, it was what they made me remember."

Potter looked away for a moment, taking a deep breath. "My professor insisted that I was simply fearing fear, but that's not really true. I fear them because they make me relive my mother's murder. Every word, every sound… her screaming most of all."

There was a sort of morbidity in that revelation. Professor Potter, at whatever age, had been forced to witness his mother being murdered. And when Dementors were near, he had to relive something traumatic like that, over and over.

Tom was never a normal child and he'd never really considered much about his parents beyond hating them for not wanting him, but he'd seen what happened to other children who had to witness the death of a family member or friend.

Some of the orphans at the orphanage were very quiet and kept to themselves because they'd seen things.

Interestingly enough, none of those orphans had ever bothered Tom once. Because they understood to some extent that the other children didn't. They were no better than he simply because they got to live with a family for awhile.

So he could understand to an extent how bad it was for a child to see something like that, and how it could shape their character. However, traumatised children were a lot smarter than their peers and were more determined to be better, so if Potter was anything like that, then maybe his trauma helped shape him into who he was currently.

A man to respect.

"Thank you for telling me, sir."

Potter's bland smile didn't leave his mind for the rest of the day.

* * *

"Professor Potter is walking beside a handsome man!" Abraxas Malfoy said in a hushed tone, though he was pointing like a fool.

Still, the group of Slytherins all looked over anyway, finding that their favourite professor was indeed walking beside an unknown man. An attractive, unknown man.

Said man had a hand placed on the center of Potter's back and was guiding him through the throngs of shoppers.

"I wonder who he is," Tom heard Greengrass murmur.

"Let's find out," Abraxas decided, already moving to approach the two men.

Nott sent Tom a nervous look, knowing very well that Tom hated it when they acted out, especially when in public.

However, Tom was also curious and decided to spare Abraxas this time. Simply because the other's foolishness would work to his advantage.

"Hello, Professor Potter!"

He was too chipper. It was annoying.

"Hello, Misters Riddle, Malfoy, Greengrass, Nott, and Carrow. Doing any holiday shopping?"

Tom barely repressed the urge to preen at how his name was mentioned first despite the fact that Abraxas was the one who greeted the man. He had dignity after all. He wasn't some rambunctious child.

"I intend to," said Abraxas. "Honeydukes is great during this time of year and allows me to plot ahead of time without spending too much."

Not that he was struggling with money or anything.

Potter merely quirked a brow and looked to his companion, whose angular face was set to a blank expression. "I want chocolate," the professor said to his friend.

His face brightened suddenly.

"Oh, right! This is Mortimer, he's a good friend of mine and will be visiting me a lot, so don't be alarmed if you see him around, okay? Headmaster Dippet has been made aware of his presence, but just in case you see him lurking about and find him questionable, you will say the following phrase. _'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.'_ If Mortimer does not respond with _'Mischief Managed'_ , it is not Mortimer and you need to get a professor immediately."

'Mortimer' nodded.

The Slytherins nodded in understanding, and allowed their professor to get on his way with his companion. The two stalked away, Potter's head moving from side to side as he started talking about chocolate.

The five Slytherins shared a look of interest.

Life at Hogwarts was suddenly more intriguing.

* * *

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	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

-For everyone's benefit, Mortimer is Death. Death is  
tagged as a character above. AO3 is so much better  
because they have a detailed tag sections where you  
could find things out without me having to waste any  
fic space.

* * *

"Professor Potter has something to tell you all," Headmaster Dippet announced the morning the students were to leave for the Yule hols. The man had made sure the entire student body was gathered and hadn't even allowed breakfast to be served yet.

Tom sat up a little straighter. Whenever Professor Potter felt the need to make announcements, it was usually something one should pay attention to. Of course he could tell that it wasn't bad news at least, since the man was grinning widely at the student body. That was something.

He stood, drawing all attention to his slim frame that was garbed in a simple, white button down shirt, and a pair of black trousers. He'd forgone a tie that morning, or any sort of robes. Not that Professor Potter bothered with wizarding robes anyway.

"I simply wanted to inform everyone that I will be starting a Dueling Club when you return from your holiday."

Murmurs started up immediately as the students leaned toward one another. Tom's eyes never once strayed from the man however, as he was curious. Potter seemed genuinely excited over the prospect of such a club, and to be honest, Tom was also interested. Because if Potter was in charge of said club, then he knew that they would actually learn, and that the man would be fair to all students.

"The club will not be a requirement for anyone, however you will be learning things not necessarily taught in your classes. First years for example, will not only learn how to master their first year spell curriculum, but they, should they advance fast enough, will be taught some second year spells ahead of time."

Once again, the reaction was positive, with many bouncing in their seats with anticipation.

"I will be giving lectures at the beginning of each meeting and while you do not have to attend them, it would benefit you. Also, every student fourth year and up, who is a part of the club, will be receiving training on how to perform a Patronus. They have more uses than just repelling Dementors after all."

This time the clamour in the Hall had reached a decibel that was almost too loud for Tom's preferences. But Potter let the students have their moment. He was rather lenient in that regard.

"There will be a piece of parchment on your plate. It'll describe the Club and have a time schedule for each year. You may choose to sign up or not. I hope to see you there."

When Potter seated himself, the atmosphere returned to normal, not that the students had forgotten. Everyone was staring at the pieces of parchment that had indeed appeared on their plates.

 **DUELING CLUB**  
 _Administrator: Harry Potter_

 **Objective:  
1.** To train the students in proper magical management.  
 **2.** To advance their understanding of practical magic.  
 **3.** To expand their knowledge on practical application.  
 **4.** To tutor them to the level they should be at for their Year.

Basically, this was the professor's plan to tutor the students in a way that wasn't obvious. So instead of focusing one on one, he would take groups at a time and handle them that way. Some students were too embarrassed to ask for tutoring and this was a way to avoid them having to do such.

It was cunning, and Tom approved.

Also, Professor Potter expected fourth years and up to start learning the Patronus Charm? The man had learned it when he was thirteen, so yes it was possible, but he had incredibly high standards for his students! It was no wonder that he thought Tom was average. That thought still bothered him, but not as much as it used to. After all, Tom was the only one who was level with Potter's expectations, which still made him better than his peers.

The Slytherin Seventh Years had their time scheduled with the Hufflepuff Seventh Years, strangely enough. As if Potter did not wish to mix the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. Not like Dumbledore preferred to do. The two Houses were set for Saturdays, nine to ten-thirty. All the Seventh Years had their club meetings on Saturdays. The day usually viewed as the day off for most students.

It probably had to do with expecting Seventh Years to manage their time better, since they basically were reviewing everything in their year. Tom would simply have to set aside other times to practice Occluding and his Patronus.

He found himself wishing the hols would come and go already, just so he could see how well Professor Potter handled tutoring mass groups of students.

* * *

"It is a pleasure to have you visit us, Mr. Riddle," Lord Malfoy said when he stepped foot inside Malfoy Manor. Abraxas was stood a few feet behind him, at his left, awaiting his father's acknowledgement.

Tom shook the man's hand and gave a charming smile. "It's a pleasure to be here. I appreciate your generosity and your invitation, Lord Malfoy."

It wasn't lost in him that he was given a room better than even Abraxas had. Lord Malfoy held him in rather high regard.

Tom Riddle stared up at the four green walls that would be his abode for the next two weeks, thinking about what had transpired before he stepped foot on the train.

Professor Potter had decided to chaperon the students back to London, and had spoken briefly to the Head Boy and Girl, as well as the Prefects, before taking his leave. As he passed Tom, a small piece of parchment slipped between their hands, and then the man was gone.

And what had been on the parchment?

 _Albus Dumbledore is watching you very closely. Do not act  
out. __Do not do anything deemed suspicious. He intends to  
cause __problems for the Malfoys during your stay. What you  
choose to do __with this information is up to you._

 _Have a good Yule._  
 _Harry Potter_

And so Tom was left to consider. Why would the professor warn him at all? And why him and not Lord Malfoy? If the Malfoy family were to be the most affected by whatever Dumbledore was cooking up, then the Lord of said family should be made aware, should he not?

Or…

He was giving Tom the chance to do it. If Tom revealed what he knew, then it could put the Malfoys in his debt. But having such a prominent family in one's debt was considered the most beneficial thing that could possibly happen. Why wouldn't Potter want that sort of boon for himself?

Why give Tom the chance to be the 'hero' so to speak?

He wasn't a fan of Dumbledore's, so Tom didn't have to worry much about it being a trap. But still…

Tom was not so foolish as to look a gift horse in the mouth however. He was just doing as expected of him. Maintaining his 'good boy' image and being as helpful as he could be.

And if he benefited from such actions in the long run, that was no one's business but his and Professor Potter's.

He would need to confront the man after the hols however.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

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	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

* * *

Watching as Lord Malfoy worked endlessly for all the Dark Artifacts in his family's possession to be removed in time, had been interesting. Apparently there was a secret chalet out in France that they had for special purposes. Such as hiding any incriminating evidence.

The House Elves weren't the only ones working this time. Lord Malfoy had to go from room to room inspecting every artifact he could find to make sure that everything had maintained its Grey aura. The Malfoys were know for Dark and Grey cores and in the current time, Grey was better than Dark.

Abraxas had been tasked with keeping Tom entertained while his parents moved double time to 'lighten' their manor.

"How did you find out, my lord?" Abraxas had asked him once they were ensconced inside the Malfoy family's second best drawing room.

Obviously Tom did not feel pressured to tell his follower the truth. He merely stated that a reliable source had forewarned him before the beginning of the holiday. Technically it was truth in a way. Professor Potter was the most trustworthy person that Tom currently knew. The man seemed to be the only one who treated him like a normal person and took everything he said with sincere interest.

Not even Slughorn, who adored Tom the most, did that. Half of then time, he would wave away Tom's comments or observations as childish whimsy. It was annoying despite it being beneficial. Potter didn't put on airs. He was simply honest about his thoughts and didn't treat Tom like some juvenile schoolboy.

Some might think that to be foolish. Tom merely appreciated it after four months of getting a better understanding of the man.

Now they simply had to pass the holiday patiently, awaiting Dumbledore's interference.

* * *

When Tom awoke on Christmas morning, he found a few gifts at the foot of his bed. Even though Pureblood wizards in Britain did not observe the holiday, it was still celebrated by about half of the magical society. Not gifting others would ruin a reputation and especially to blood purists, that was not a good thing.

Tom had already sent his gifts back in November, so he wouldn't have to think more on it.

His followers had apparently remembered that they should tastefully, as the muggles said, kiss his arse, if they wanted to remain on his more pleasant side.

 **His gifts were are follows:**

 **Malfoy-** A new trunk, complete with dragon hide leather and his initials  
sewn in with golden thread. Tom's favourite part was the expanding  
library it came equipped with.

 **Nott-** A gift voucher for Flourish and Blotts, equal to one thousand  
Galleons.

 **Avery(the younger sister)-** A vial of Felix Felicis. She would need a  
reward.

 **Greengrass-** A third edition copy of a book about the known history of  
the Founders of Hogwarts, that was written in 1329. The copy was  
written in Latin.

 **Carrow-** A Foci Necklace to harness his magic should he ever need an  
extra bit of power. The stone was pure crystal in teardrop form, encased  
in a silver framework that looked like a spider web.

 **Mulciber-** A book on the known magical artifacts of British history.

 **Crabbe-** Dragon hide gloves.

 **Goyle-** Dragon hide boots.

Some gifts were much more preferable than others, though he was grateful. To purchase the gifts for his followers, he had to employ use of the Imperius Curse to get a most honest sale. Some gifts made it easier on him in the future. Haggling was such a plebeian activity after all.

* * *

Aurors had come. Tom had only seen them in person once before, when Myrtle's bloody had been taken away. They seemed much less of a threat to his existence now, and no matter how much they tried to appear threatening, he was in no way affected by their demands and harsh words.

Lord Malfoy, as expected, demanded a warrant. Once it was given, the Aurors were given free reign of the manor, but a House Elf was assigned to each to make certain nothing valuable went missing.

The Head Auror, whose name was revealed to be Timina Dodderage, had taken insult to that. Malfoy merely sneered something about the 'less than fortunate often being easily swayed by greed', which shut the woman's mouth quickly.

As expected, Tom's new trunk, which had been shrunken to a more manageable size and looped onto the necklace he'd received that morning, was brought up for being 'suspicious'. Lord Malfoy, no doubt feeling indebted to Tom, spoke on his behalf. The Aurors had a warrant for the building but not the living beings residing within it. If they wanted to search the people like they did in their fruitless endeavour with the manor, they could go and get a warrant for that as well.

A threat about going to the Minister was made, which ended up sending the Aurors off in a foul mood. Nothing incriminating had been discovered and a failed raid of a building would look bad on the team's records.

"Mr. Riddle, I believe that we owe you a debt."

Tom made sure that his almost malicious glee was well hidden behind his kind and helpful Head Boy mask.

* * *

In the late evening some nights later, Tom found himself being hailed by an owl that he had never seen before. Said owl was not a common Barn Owl and had red eyes and black feathers. The noise it had made to capture his attention had startled him momentarily. No soul would ever learn of such information.

It bore a letter that was a bit thicker than usual, due to something being shoved inside it.

No spells or curses on the parchment. It was just a letter.

When he broke the wax seal and turned the letter upside down, something heavy fell into his palm, and the chain it was connected to, dangled heavily between his fingers. It was beautiful and certainly of older craftsmanship. An emerald face and with nicely cut facets.

The note it came with however…

 _Your mother had owned this. In an attempt to save your  
lives, she sold it to Mr. Borgin, and was cheated out of what  
could have been thousands of Galleons. Slytherin's Locket  
is no simple piece of jewelry. In desperation, she fled to  
London in search of aid. I saw it in Borgin and Burke's  
and decided it should be returned to you once and for all._

 _Many happy returns, Tom Marvolo Riddle._

If Tom were of any less intelligence, he would have been terrified that someone had known his birthday when he had divulged it to no one. Yet, despite there being no name on the note or the face of the envelope, he would recognise that writing anywhere.

What concerned him most, was how Professor Potter knew anything about Tom's mother.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **How was it? Let me know!**

 **Check out my Watermelonsmellinfellon Harrymort/Tomarry fics!**

 **See ya! :D**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

-I know what I'm doing. Again, up to chapter 16 is done already,  
so any bitching about how I 'didn't think it through' can't go fuck  
off now.

* * *

On the train ride back to Hogwarts, Tom Riddle found himself inside a compartment with his Slytherin contemporaries. They spoke calmly and quietly about the drama that had occurred at Malfoy Manor over the course of the holidays. Abraxas was being as dramatic as possible to make the story even worse than it actually was. Tom had managed to remove himself from the situation well enough, until Abraxas mentioned that the Aurors tried to unlawfully search his person.

The others immediately turned their eyes upon his form, looking mildly horrified and curious. There was no choice but to join the conversation by then, and Tom nodded regally.

"It was amusing when Lord Malfoy pointed out that they needed a warrant to check individual people on the premises. I believe I have also lost all hope in the Auror forces if they plan to listen to the hearsay of random wizards with no actual proof. Something else that will eventually need to change, I assure you all."

A moment of silence met his words and he made sure to eye each of them considerably, before returning to his tome about potions and their potency.

The peace was disturbed when the compartment door slid open to reveal the Trolley Witch, who was looking expectant. "Anything off the trolley?" she inquired, waving a hand toward her wares.

Tom's eyes noticed the large amount of Daily Prophet rolls. The woman glanced over and smiled. "We were given a massive amount to sell on the train, dear. Some drama in politics as usual."

Abraxas immediately bought a paper as well as several Chocolate Frogs.

After several moments, the blond's jaw dropped. "Dumbledore is currently being investigated!" he announced loudly.

Tom hissed, waving a hand to lock the door to the compartment and silence the entire room before the fool could make an even bigger spectacle than he already had.

The paper was passed into Tom's hands immediately, who unfolded it carefully, eyes trailing over the words that proceeded to condemn Albus Dumbledore for foul action against the Lord of an Noble House, as well as call into question, his behaviour at school.

 **MALFOY FAMILY UNDER ATTACK FROM AN OUTSIDE SOURCE?**

 _During the Yule holidays, the Auror Force headed a raid on Malfoy Manor in search of what is being_  
 _termed, 'Dark Artifacts'. An inside tip had alerted the Aurors of devious actions taken by the Malfoy_  
 _Lord and expressed concern for the visiting Hogwarts student, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Head Boy and_  
 _Slytherin's star pupil._

 _The Head Auror was among the group who searched the Malfoy's home and found absolutely nothing_  
 _Dark or suspicious. One of the Aurors on the team, who shall remain anonymous as per their request,_  
 _admitted to the group attempting to search the people inside the building without having a warrant to_  
 _do such. Lord Malfoy has done as he had promised and filed a complaint with the Minister himself, and  
it has lead this story to us, dear readers._

 _An inside source admitted to this reporter that the warning the Aurors received came from a golden_  
 _and red Phoenix and was written in fanciful script. As there is only one wizard within Magical Britain_  
 _who has a Phoenix familiar, we have come to believe that the anonymous tip to the Auror Office was_  
 _from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster and Transfiguration Professor of_  
 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

 _Many would question why Professor Dumbledore would even involve himself in such matters when he_  
 _is but a school teacher, but it turns out that Mr. Dumbledore is also working to become Chief Warlock_  
 _of the British Wizengamot. Such a thing is not something a passive school teacher would do. It is also_  
 _very interesting when we consider what some individuals have divulged to us in concern._

 _ **"I have known Albus for many years. He was a bright pupil and always ready to learn what  
was available. **__**However I have noticed that he has always been a bit too superstitious and  
tends to believe the worst of **__**everyone upon first glance if their immediate impression isn't  
positive. His attitude has changed quite **__**drastically over the course of these past few years,  
though I cannot for the life of me understand why,"** said __Armando Dippet, current Headmaster  
of Hogwarts. **"If he was truly behind such a thing, I wouldn't be able to**_ _ **give you a reason."**_

 _ **"Albus has always been a delightful mind to pick and prod!"** the Potions Master, Horace Slughorn  
stated __enthusiastically. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the only pleasant thing he had to say about  
Hogwarts' __Deputy Head. **"Albus has a tendency to be rather biased. He is quick to jump on a  
Slytherin should **__**they appear to be doing anything he thinks is questionable. I have noticed  
that he neglects to pay Slytherin **__**students the attention they deserve while he lavishes his  
Gryffindors often and unnecessarily. He doesn't even **__**acknowledge the Slytherin students  
unless something unpleasant happens, in which Albus will be the first to accuse a **__**Slytherin.  
It is concerning behaviour."**_

 _Finally, we spoke with Hogwarts' new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Harry Potter. Professor_  
 _Potter has been seen by many students and staff, in heated discussions with Mr. Dumbledore. It has_  
 _lead many to believe that the two do not in fact, get along. Whispers of a possible growing animosity  
between them are also being spread, but we'll leave that as hearsay for now._

 ** _"Professor Dumbledore becomes visibly irate whenever he notices that a Slytherin is looking  
at any student from another House. He gives detention to Slytherins without proof of their  
wrongs, and often times, __Professor Slughorn must intervene upon his student's behalves. A  
Gryffindor student was caught bullying a __Hufflepuff student and Professor Dumbledore did  
nothing but waive the detention I assigned. He proceeded __to give detention to a Slytherin  
Prefect for being out after hours, despite the fact that it was said Slytherin's __duty to patrol  
on the First Floor for an hour after curfew._**

 ** _"I have witnessed him refuse to acknowledge the efforts of the students who are not among  
his Gryffindors, yet raise his __Gryffindors far above a level they deserve. He was displeased  
with my teaching style, ad claimed that 'the good __and just students of his House deserved  
better grades'. The fact is, a good percentage of his students did in __fact, not do well in my  
class, and I have steep grading expectations._**

 ** _"In addition to his disgusting behaviour toward the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, he also  
has controlling _****_tendencies, having attempted to coerce me into believing some nasty rumors  
about some of the Slytherin __students that he does not like. I am in no way shocked that he  
would try to put the Malfoys under fire, __seeing as he constantly puts the Slytherin students  
under similar stress and gives them all undeserved punishments._**

 _ **"Sometimes I worry for the students with him here, which is why I did not go home for the  
Yule hols like many of my **__**fellows. I was concerned for the Slytherin students who remained  
behind without their Head of House to be **__**there to defend them."**_

 _With these statements from three Hogwarts professors, plus many lingering comments from many of  
the Hogwarts students __and other members of the staff, it has lead us at the Daily Prophet, to question  
whether or not our children are __safe among the influence of a man who lacks any respect for his peers  
or pupils, nor nor any for of caring for a percentage of the students __under his purview._

 _An investigation by the DMLE is underway. We will keep you updated._

 _Garrison Bespoke,_  
 _Special Correspondent to the Daily Prophet._

A dark grin that felt well deserved in his opinion, spread across his face. This was the perfect way to destroy Dumbledore's reputation. To shed light on his internal bias that he was incredibly poor at hiding. And then soon everyone who adored him, would see the type of person he really was.

"Professors Slughorn and Potter weren't merciful in their comments. Even Headmaster Dippet spoke out against his attitude."

If there was any more of a reason for Tom to like Professor Potter, he had it now.

* * *

Looking up at the Head Table and seeing Professor Potter sitting there calmly while the seat Dumbledore usually sat in, remained vacant, made Tom incredibly pleased. Enough to smirk openly. How he despised Dumbeldore's very existence.

However, this would not distract him from his mission. He needed to find out why the professor knew about Tom's blood relations.

* * *

He knocked thrice and waited a few seconds.

"Enter."

When Tom stepped into the man's office, he found Professor Potter sitting with his… friend Mortimer.

"Hello, Tom."

Mortimer glanced between them, before standing. "I will take my leave now. Remember what we discussed."

Professor Potter gave a firm nod as Mortimer strode out the door without even giving Tom another thought.

"Come and sit, Tom. What is on your mind?"

Tom closed the door behind himself and waited until he was seated before placing the 'anonymous' letter on the other man's desk. Seeing no reason to extend the awkward feeling he was experiencing, Tom asked, "How do you know who my mother was, professor?"

Potter's eyes grew wide and for the first time since meeting the man, Tom saw him without any self-control or his aloof demeanour he'd become known for.

The following muttered curse, was enough to make him feel good.

 _Too_ good.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **How was it? Let me know!**

 **See ya! :D**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

One of my many headcanons is that the Diary Horcrux was improperly made. Since the Basilisk was the one that killed Myrtle, as she doesn't understand Parseltongue and can't actually know what was said, there is no proof that Tom Riddle actually told the snake to kill her. He took credit for it and used it as a murder requirement for the Horcrux ritual, but there was no dialogue or order given to our knowledge.

So, Tom did the ritual without a fractured soul(because he didn't personally murder Myrtle) and ended up ripping his soul in half which caused immense damage to his sanity. It would then explain why he went crazy so fast if the very first one was done incorrectly. And that's the plot used in this fic.

* * *

Professor Potter sighed and removed his glasses, setting them on the desk and folding his fingers beneath his chin. He proceeded to stare Tom down evenly, green eyes flashing ominously. "Albus decided to inform me, 'for my protection' apparently, that you are a Parselmouth. He heavily implied that you are the Heir of Slytherin and that you are the cause for what happened a couple of years ago with the Chamber of Secrets."

Tom would never admit to stiffening. He liked to pretend that he was not worried or scared of what Professor Potter thought of him. He _didn't_ care, even though he really did in a way. And it was so pathetic, that he, Tom Marvolo Riddle, would be so fixated on a single person's opinion of him. He didn't give a bleeding damn what Dumbledore thought, so why was Potter any different?

 _Because he treats you fairly,_ came a whispered voice in his mind. _Because he doesn't single students out and actually treats everyone the same. Because he doesn't pity you. Because he is different than everyone else in your life._

"Just because Albus is right, doesn't mean there is proof against you, and trying to manipulate someone's view of you was foolish of him. I haven't let myself be tricked like that in a long time and I refuse to let it happen again. I can determine for myself what you are like, through my own experiences with you."

His left eye twitched only just a little bit. He kept a straight face though it was like his body was caught between the need to either frown or smile. Potter wanted to judge based on their interactions and not by Dumbledore's bias. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, sir." Admit nothing. That was usually the Slytherin mentality.

Potter shrugged, his unearthly green eyes flashing with hidden knowledge. "It's obvious that an Acromantula didn't kill Myrtle Warren. They consume their prey differently, and there was not one mark on the girl that came from a creature. Besides, anyone with a brain knows that only one creature can petrify its prey, and that is a Basilisk. Had she been lucky enough to look into it's 'great big yellow eyes' as she described to me, through another object like a mirror or a puddle, she wouldn't have died and would have just been frozen."

Professor Potter had actually spoken to Myrtle Warren's ghost. He asked her what had killed her and she described the Basilisk's eyes perfectly. A sinking feeling was settling in Tom's stomach. He didn't like how familiar he was becoming with it.

The professor leaned back in his seat and waved his hand twice. A dark book levitated off his bookshelf and opened for him, hovering in front of his almost disinterested face. His eyes roved over the page. "A Basilisk in the school wouldn't make sense normally, if one of the Founders wasn't a Parselmouth. However, each of the Founders placed a creature of their choosing to protect the school. Godric had a dragon that some fool in the 1200s killed for its hide, Rowena had a Sphinx that was sent back to Egypt in the 1600s, and Helga had a Phoenix that seems to have befriended Albus, and goes by the name of Fawkes.

"Anyway, only those of Slytherin's blood can control the Basilisk, as the book states. Which would mean you as you are a descendant of the line through the Gaunts."

Tom's eyes stared intently at the book that he did not know the name of. He had never see any book like it before, so he knew it wasn't from the Hogwarts Library. He never knew that any of the other Founders had creatures in the castle at some point. Perhaps it was a Potter Family artifact? And how had Potter known that he was related to the Gaunt Family? After all, Tom could have just been an unexpected relation that came from a splintered off line of Salazar's.

"Sir, where did you get that book? I've never seen such information in any books about Hogwarts and I made sure to extensively study the history of the school as well as our community." _For my own gain,_ he neglected to add. It was obvious enough for him to not have to mention it.

Potter smiled, and the book slowly floated toward Tom, until he could literally pluck it out of the air. It was strangely soft, and the covering on it was unfamiliar to him. The size was larger than any tome he had ever encountered, and much heavier. Even the parchment was foreign to him. It was so… strangely brittle and solid all at once.

"My friend Mortimer helped me acquire that book. He had the knowledge of its existence and we went and fetched it from its old holding place. Normal magicals wouldn't even be able to read it however, because its author held knowledge of a specific language that is rare in this side of the world and is only connected to one family over here."

Tom turned the book over, opening up to the very first page. All of a sudden, the odd squiggles on the page righted themselves and the words SALAZAR SLYTHERIN stood out in large blocky calligraphy. His ancestor had written the book in his hands. He's written it in Parseltongue?

"Parselscript," clarified Potter, as if knowing exactly what Tom was thinking.

Parseltongue had a written form.

He frowned when he realised. "Professor, you speak Parseltongue as well?" Were they related? Was that why the man knew of his mother and knew that he was a Gaunt? Was he a cousin or something? He didn't look anything like Morfin did. And his surname was Potter.

Were they perhaps brothers and Tom's mother had a relationship with a Potter who then took Harry away? From what he'd learned of the Gaunts, they weren't a family anyone wanted to align themselves with. It would be social suicide, especially for a Potter who was of the Light side.

"Tom, what do you know of the Gaunt Family?" asked Professor Potter, sitting back in his chair as if this was not the most confusing and revealing conversation of Tom's life. "Do you know _anything_ beyond you being Salazar's possible second to last descendant?"

'Possible'?

Knowing it was pointless to lie when he would get nothing from it in this situation, Tom shook his head. "There isn't much about the Gaunt Family beyond them squandering their former wealth and inbreeding too much just to keep themselves ' _pure_ '." He sneered the last word, disgusted at the thought of performing any type of sexual acts with relatives. Especially with how their looks apparently degenerated overs the centuries. He couldn't understand the desire.

The Defence professor nodded and leaned forward until his elbows could rest on the desk. "In the 1600s, Rionach Gaunt broke off from the family and married William Sayre, who shared her ideals about being kind to Muggles."

Tom's upper lip rose in a sneer, but Potter ignored it.

"Their daughter Isolt, was a brilliant little witch, but ended up losing her parents to a fire. Her mother's estranged sister Gormlaith Gaunt 'found her' and 'raised her' with dubious teachings and under Dark Magic to force her compliance and isolation for years. Isolt eventually learned that Gormlaith murdered her parents and had kidnapped her, and came to resent her. She was refused any chance to attend Hogwarts, because Gormlaith didn't like it, and spun tales of why it was supposedly terrible. She decided to teach Isolt all the Dark Arts she knew instead."

Was everyone that Tom was related to, somehow a bloody moron? How could Hogwarts be horrible in any way? Sure, there were some fools here and there and Dumbledore surely tainted the air with his existence, but he would not be around always, and Tom had growing plans to make things follow his way of thinking in the future.

"Isolt learned enough magic by the time she was twelve, to successfully steal her aunt's wand and escape. She fled to England and disguised herself as a Muggle boy, who then sneaked onto the Mayflower that was headed for the New World. Long story short, she met the natives of the land, befriended some magical creatures, and ended up creating the first magical school in the states, which is called Ilvermorny."

Tom's jaw actually dropped. A descendent of Salazar Slytherin founded one of the other large magical schools in the world? And no one thought that the Founder of said school was evil or bent on world domination?

"If you want more information, I have a book that is a copy of her own bibliography. I had to go directly to Ilvermorny and be put through many tests to get it, but I _do_ have it. It'll tell you more about Gormlaith and the Gaunts. You'll be interested to know that the wand that she stole from her aunt was once Salazar's wand. And in the end, she buried it in the ground within Ilvermorny, and it sprouted a large Snakewood tree that has magical properties that are said to heal anything if any part of it is consumed."

Isolt Sayre was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. She never received a Hogwarts education and was only taught the Dark Arts. She went on to build the most powerful magical school in North America. And no one thought terribly of her? They didn't think she was a Dark Lady? And Salazar Slytherin, who was considered evil by most of Hogwarts for the past several centuries, had a wand that would basically be a Healer's dream come true?

"Isolt is recognised as a heroine in magical America, Tom. And her descendants are spread across the world due to traveling. I'm even distantly related to her through my mother, oddly enough. And through my father, I am distantly related to _you_ because the Potters and Gaunts came from the same line, which are the Peverells, and many Gaunts married into the Potters way back when."

The Necromancer Three. Tom knew about them as much as anyone in Britain would. The family itself wasn't important until the three brothers supposedly created some of the most powerful magical artifacts in history. Then they drew enough attention to themselves and their craft. And they became history. Their rise and fall was described in many children's books.

Potter was nodding. "Cadmus, the middle brother, sired an unwanted daughter who changed her name when she fled his old village. She didn't want to be found and have the stain of her being a bastard following her everywhere. She became the first Gaunt, and settled down with a young and impressionable wizard from the Slytherin Line, who was angry for not being the first born and not getting the privileges of the first born. When the Slytherin Family died out a century later, the Gaunts were glad to let people know of their connection to Salazar."

"And which brother are you directly related to, professor?" asked Tom. Nothing ever said Antioch had sired children, but since he hadn't known Cadmus had any, how would he know?

"Ignotus, and even more distantly, Cadmus. Ignotus moved away from the bad reputations of his brothers and started his own family, passing down secrets and slowly changing the family name over the centuries. Peverell, Povrell, Povell, Potell, Pottel, Potter. Ironically, there are some Gaunts who married into my direct Potter branch and one of Isolt Sayer's children was my mother's some form of great-grandmother from the 1800s, which would explain the Parseltongue."

He had a distant relation who wasn't a bumbling fool. It was like a breath of fresh air in some ways, while in others, it made him a little annoyed. Why wait until now to say anything to Tom about it?

Also…

"How did you know my mother sold the Slytherin Locket?" He still couldn't understand that. That had not been explained yet. Potter had given answers to things he didn't even ask, but neglected to answer the one thing he wanted to know the most.

Potter sighed for the umpteenth time. "Mr. Borgin isn't very good at keeping secrets and it only took some persuasion when I inquired about it. Add on the fact that only one Marvolo ever attended Hogwarts, and it was Marvolo Gaunt, who had only one daughter and one son. Marvolo and Morfin had made a reputation in the magical papers as 'Possible Threats to the Statute of Secrecy' since both had been fined multiple times for casting magic on the Muggles in Little Hangleton. The daughter Merope, was the only one with a clean slate and according to the dwellers of said village, she disappeared around the time you were born, with a muggle aristocrat sharing your exact name. He returned months later, without her, and was screaming about witchcraft and love potions. It really wasn't hard to put together once everything was listed."

Tom's breathing calmed slowly. His professor had actually done some studying instead of being like Dumbledore and just accusing him of unfounded things. He researched and compiled all the evidence he had. And he wasn't treating Tom like a monster despite Tom basically admitting that yes, he was behind the Chamber fiasco.

He didn't come out and directly say it, but his questions and answers gave it away. And _still_ Potter was being fair.

"Myrtle was a mistake," he found himself explaining, and wanting to be consumed by Fiendfyre on the spot. The look on Potter's face was of obvious surprise, but it didn't make him feel any better.

Tom bit his bottom lip for a second, before continuing. "Her death wasn't deliberate. I was simply trying to scare the students. No one actually got hurt or died, despite the bloody messages on the walls. Myrtle was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was the one who found her and it was only because the Basilisk called out to me from the lavatory. I then had to skillfully redirect some students in hopes of them finding her instead, which one of them finally did. Said student was even Myrtle's frequent bully, so it only seemed right."

He didn't send the Basilisk to kill her. He hadn't even been there when the death occurred.

"I _did_ find it strange how they actually carried her body off," said Professor Potter, a look of confusion on his face. "Basilisks consume their prey whole, unlike Acromantula who like to draw out their feasting time so the innards can deliquesce. There shouldn't have been a body, and if you _had_ murdered her, you would have hidden the evidence so as not to have any leads that could trace back to you."

Exactly. Tom was much better at plotting. He'd killed Tom Riddle Sr. and his parents, with Morfin's wand. And he worked some incredible magic to implicate Morfin in the scenario. He would never leave such proof behind, no matter what.

But… just because Tom didn't order it specifically, didn't mean he wasn't partially responsible. After all, he had reworked the wards on the Chamber and the lavatory, which allowed the Basilisk to open the entrances and exits with its own Parseltongue. So the Basilisk came out for another chance to explore the castle under Tom's watch, only to literally kill a student the moment it slithered from the hole beneath the sinks.

As the serpent was under Tom's orders to make such rounds about the castle, he was to blame in a sense. And when he finally learned of the ritual required to make a Horcrux a week later, he used that as his 'murder' requirement to complete the ritual. And now Tom had two Horcruxes.

So yes, it was his fault in a way, but Myrtle would not have been his choice. He would have much preferred Eldrid Avery. Because what good would it do him to pick on the pathetic and weak? Myrtle had nothing when she was alive, but seeing Avery dead and unable to bother him any longer, would have been ideal. After all, Tom targeted those who wronged him in some way, and there was no satisfaction in proving how great he was over a trampled mouse.

Eldrid acted as if he was Merlin's gift to Slytherin, and Tom would have gladly put the other in his place. In fact, he was considering using him as his next Horcrux sacrifice.

While none too fond of Muggles nor how he'd been treated for everyone assuming he was a Muggleborn, he didn't care too much. Those unworthy to be in Hogwarts would have fled upon the opening of the Chamber, and since several had _actually_ transferred out, the school was in fact free of their taint. And no, not all were Muggleborn. Tom simply hated those who worked against him. They were removed first and foremost.

"In conclusion to this hour long discussion," said Professor Potter as he glanced up at the clock on the wall, "let's put it all out there. You are the Heir of Slytherin. We both are Parselmouths thanks to Gaunt ancestry in our lines. We're both Halfbloods who are related to the Peverells. Your mother was named Merope and she was wandering about London on her own in December of 1926 and only got ten Galleons for the Slytherin Locket. You were born at Wools' Orphanage at the end of the month and grew up there. Albus was the one to visit you. Albus doesn't like you at all and is trying very hard to ruin your reputation among others. And it would behoove yoy to refrain from using anything but Light magic in the coming weeks."

At Tom's frown, the man shrugged. "We're dealing with Albus Dumbledore, who has many awards already and a good portion of the Light people in his pocket, no matter what the papers say of his actions. He can and _will_ convince someone to investigate you or me if he feels threatened. A proper diagnostic scan on a wand - that is taught to the Aurors - only shows the last one hundred castings. Practice the Patronus Charm a lot just to cover yourself even further."

And just as some of his questions had been answered, he was left with dozens more. How did his professor know about the training that Aurors went through? Was he formerly an Auror? And why was he so against Albus Dumbledore when half of Britain worshiped the man? Other than gossip, Dumbledore didn't come across as an annoying person upon first meeting, so what could have put Potter off to the man?

"You may borrow that book, though I would see it returned in the state it is currently in," said Potter, drawing his attention back to the present. Yes, the book that Tom was holding was still open. The book written by Salazar Slytherin.

Realising that this was the time for him to depart, Tom stood and closed the book gently. He then slipped it into his expanded bag and gave a small bow.

"Thank you, sir." An expression that was directed at more situations than just the book lending.

The green-eyed man waved his gratitude away. "It's only right that you learn about Salazar from his own writing. Take care of the locket. Perhaps you can get a portrait of yourself put in there."

Potter would not give him away. The man had already known everything and hadn't said a word to anybody. It was strangely comforting to know that. To know that there was an adult - and he used the term lightly since they were near each other in age - who was decent and could actually be trusted to be honest and relatively impartial.

He knew that Professor Potter would do his job, and that was good enough. And when he admitted to having a hand in Myrtle's death, the man hadn't glared at him. He didn't regard Tom with disgust. He simply accepted the answer for what it was and moved on.

It was nice… to have someone that didn't fear him. It was nice to not feel that telltale sign of nausea around someone. Potter was someone that treated him well, not because Tom threatened him into compliance, or because he wanted to get on Tom's good side. The man was just genuinely kind to everyone. Except perhaps Dumbledore, though the old fool deserved if it he kept trying to enforce his opinions and views on everyone he met.

It was halfway back to his dorm that Tom realised something else. Potter's Dueling Club was starting soon. He had to work on his Patronus even more if he wanted to impress the man and the class. A happy thought or memory strong enough to power such a spell.

He blinked for a moment, and in a moment of intense thought, he lifted his wand. " _Expecto Patronum._ "

In the darkness of the dungeon corridor, Tom Marvolo Riddle was witness to the brightness of the very first corporeal Patronus he'd ever summon. It was a large, writhing serpent covered in odd markings. It reminded him very much of Professor Potter's Patronus, which shouldn't surprise him, since it was a thought of the man himself that had fueled the charm.

Tom smiled, enjoying the sight and the proof of his own ability. He felt a little giddy actually.

It was… nice.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **I'm in the middle of a move so things are going slow.**

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	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

-So now Tom is faced with the reality that he might not actually know anything  
about Slytherin and that bias has twisted the image of his ancestor to a ridiculous  
level.

* * *

Tom was very intent upon having his Patronus mastered as soon as possible. Especially since that very weekend would have the students in the first Dueling Club meeting for the seventh years, and Tom wanted so badly to be ready. He needed to prove his superiority above the other students in his year and in order to gain Professor Potter's higher regard, this was the only method he currently had.

This or becoming an Animagi. Tom had everything he needed for that particular undertaking, it was just having the time that held him up. Keeping a Mandrake leaf in his mouth for an entire month was difficult enough. But then getting the full moon to cooperate for the potion that the leaf would be added to, was also hell. The weather could not truly be controlled, only held at bay for a period of time.

Basically, the Patronus was easier at present, and since he had actually managed one already, it should be easy from there on out. He just needed to follow Potter's advice, which was to use thoughts instead of memories, because summoning a happy thought as opposed to a happy memory, was far simpler for those who didn't have good memories to begin with. And Tom had many thoughts that made him happy, as opposed to fabricating a happy memory.

So far, thoughts of Professor Potter managed to fuel his Patronus every time he cast it. Tom's deep appreciation for the man being decent to him out of genuine kindness and no other reason, made him feel warm inside. And he actually felt like there was someone in existence who actually liked him as a person and had no other nefarious reason to treat him well. Not like other people.

It was very Hufflepuff in nature, to be touched by someone's kindness and to hold onto that, but Tom would bring that information to his nonexistent grave. No one would ever know how oddly soft he was becoming toward one person. One wizard who managed to be different in many frustrating but amazing ways. A man worthy of respect.

Before the beginning of the term, he would have stated that such relationships would be a weakness. But Tom took mental note of everything happening recently. He managed to ingratiate himself into the Malfoy family's favour, thanks to Potter's assistance. He learned a difficult piece of magic because of Potter's instruction and advice. He now had at his fingertips, the history of Hogwarts as told by Salazar Slytheirn himself, because Potter allowed him to borrow a book. And soon Potter would be letting him look into another book so he may learn more about the Gaunts.

So when he considered everything in full, Tom had all along, been shown more lenience and attention by the Defence professor. It just hadn't been blatant like he'd grown used to over the years. Potter answered his questions instead of assuming he knew all the answers like the rest of the professors did. Potter actually treated him like a person. Potter was kind. Potter was helpful no matter what.

He didn't single Tom out because Tom was the favourite. In fact, Tom was certain that if anyone else bothered to come to the man with questions, he would gladly answer and help them out. It was simply Tom being the only one taking the initiative to better his education and his experiences as a wizard as a whole, that had him within Potter's scope of reference on a regular basis.

Tom had the man's attention because he worked for it. He found himself madly grateful that his fellow seventh years were too daft to consider approaching the professor personally for assistance. It left him to have Potter's attention and Tom preferred that immensely.

No one could ever deny that Tom was greedy. It came with being poor and an orphan. He clung to anything he perceived as his, with a viciousness. And he would work to keep himself in Professor Potter's favour. Especially since the man's attention was about to be broken up even more than it already was, and Tom would be in a race for the man's approval.

Too many students were beginning to taken an interest in the attractive, young professor who was of marrying age. It would be a very... interesting competition.

When I consider the past several years and the time it took for us to  
finally see this goal through, I am astonished that we even managed  
to get this far. 'Tis true, we four are of the most talented magicals on  
the isles, but vision is not the only skill when reaching for any type of  
accomplishment. Having a castle built for us was the most trying part  
of the entire process. The rest dealt mostly in mine and Helga's talent  
in persuasion for our would-be pupils.

Once we had a building that would serve as the primary base of our  
desired institution, Rowena and Godric then began the torturous and  
tedious process of warding the grounds. As was their contribution to  
the structure themselves. Helga and I handled the stones, each at a  
time, saturating them in our magic before they were stacked on top  
of one another when forming the actual building.

Creating the ward stone for the area within the mountains had been  
more work than any of us anticipated. The weather was never doing  
as it should, and needing one person to keep everything calm so the  
others could work, had slowed our progress drastically. I often found  
myself swearing and bearing Rowena's disapproval over such actions.  
She has never been one to support vulgarity, but rarely do I ever fall  
into such boorish habits. I feel that I am allowed some latitude on the  
random occasion I give in to my baser instincts.

After three full summers of waiting for the castle to be built, we finally  
had the establishment necessary to house the magical students in. Of  
course with this came the immediate desire to see our future pupils  
safe from any sort of danger. Once the wards had been set into place  
and we were assured of the safety measures being of good quality so  
nothing could pose a threat, we set our focus on the actual housing  
arrangements, which had each of us choosing a section of the castle  
to be our 'domain'.

I chose the dungeons. Many would consider my choices to be a cause  
for alarm, but I prefer to think of it as intelligence at it's best. Anyone  
with skills in brewing would understand that the temperature down in  
the dungeons remains steady, which is preferable for a place meant to  
store our potions supplies. The water is my primary element of choice,  
and with the lake close to me at all time, I feel tranquil. The solitude  
can at times by cathartic, so it was the wisest decision for my sanity.

I am also the most adept at the Dark Artes, among our motley group.  
Ironically, Dark Magick is best performed in darkness. Darkness lends  
additional strength to any sort of Dark Magick one wishes to make use  
of. The same is with any magic of Light origin. If performed under the  
sun or in bright areas, it'll add more power to the casting. So for me,  
choosing the dungeons benefits me in every way. The other three will  
probably never understand it, but they do not need to. The choice had  
been made.

Rowena and Godric always fancied the sky, and each took a tower for  
themselves. Helga had always been a devout lover of the soil however,  
and she was perfectly happy to be on level with the ground. It had to  
do with her Tasseomancy, though I could never understand it. We each  
personalised our respective spaces. Mine beheld a great many shades  
of green and silver, as they are the very colours personal to Slytherin's  
coat of arms.

It was after these events that we decided to add a few more (many)  
protections to the institution. Magical creatures would surely send an  
attacker off in fear before even daring to follow through with the plan  
of assault. My choice was a Basilisk. Being a - what we all decided to  
term - Parselmouth is a boon when handling any serpents. I hatched  
the deadly snake specifically to protect the school. Godric managed to  
acquire the dragon he had always longed for, while Rowena paid for a  
Sphinx to be brought in from her home in the Southern countries. As  
for Helga, she somehow earned the allegiance of a Phoenix who was  
kind enough to offer a tear or two for potions now an then.

In some ways, it seemed as if our goal was infallible. And that there  
would be nothing to stand in our way if we had such good fortune on  
our side.

We were wrong.

The entire chapter had been accompanied by sketches from Salazar himself. Examples of particular objects added in for the reader to better envision the story being told. And it was interesting despite not being fiction. Biographies tended to be very dreadfully mundane. Also, each word that appeared like a miniature snake upon first glance, would change until it seemed as if he was reading basic English. But common English of his day and nothing like he had assumed it would be. To be blunt, he didn't feel as if he was reading Shakespeare. He felt as if he was reading another one of Professor Slughorn's anecdotes. Though Slytheirn's writing was infinitely more interesting.

Perhaps it was a spell on the book itself, to keep up with modernisation?

Still, Tom sat back to consider the contents of the first chapter alone. There was a sketch of Hogwarts from a distance, probably across the lake. Salazar included a sketch of the Hogwarts ward stone, though he didn't mention where it resided.

He'd also just learned that performing Dark Magic at night or in darkness would empower his spells. He had never considered that to be a possibility, but it was actually very interesting once he considered it in full. And he also hoped that it was incredibly bright when he went to demonstrate his Patronus for Professor Potter.

Speaking of the young and attractive man, Tom had made note of how correct he'd been. The Founders had each placed a creature in the castle for the protection of the students. And it meant that the dramatic tales about how Slytherin placed a monster in the school in order to kill unworthy students... were false. The Basilisk wasn't mean to harm anyone but attackers and those who tried to hurt the students.

It would explain just why the creature had been so downtrodden after accidentally killing Myrtle and how she refused to leave the chamber after that.

But this put many things into perspective. One of the more well-known legends about the Chamber of Secrets was actually false. So what other information, that people he been using as fact over the years, was also incorrect? And who was the one to drastically change the truth so it was mutated into the worst possible version of the story? And finally, if that ended up being a lie, then what else was wrong?

Did Tom even know his great ancestor as well as he thought he did? If the Basilisk wasn't meant to drive the unworthy from the scho- or perhaps the 'unworthy' weren't Muggleborns as legend suggested. Perhaps the 'unworthy' in Salazar's mind were those who wished to see Hogwarts torn down. Or to see magic dead and gone?

Reading further would be his only way of finding out. And he wasn't certain if he was ready for whatever else would be tossed at him. Had he, like many other Slytherins, allowed centuries of liars to shape the way he viewed his own House Founder? Tom's ancestor? Were they really acting as Salazar would approve of, or was it all a lie?

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **Part of the 2017 Christmas Bundle.**

 **There is more of this fic posted on AO3.**

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	16. INTERLUDE II

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

-I changed the story behind how Tom made the ring  
a Horcrux. I changed a lot of stuff. But in a Time &  
Dimension Travel fic, what can you expect? Not the  
same world Harry is from.

-I forgot I posted this fic here, so I forgot to post  
this chapter a while back. This fic is up to CH. 17  
on AO3.

* * *

"As things stand, I cannot in good conscience, allow you to remain as the Deputy Headmaster. If the Auror Department are investigating you and your actions, Albus, it'll look bad on the reputations of not only the school, but myself included, if I was to remain silent on the matter. I have already expressed concerns to the Daily Prophet."

Harry had seen it coming, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. But indeed, Albus Dumbledore was getting booted from a position of power, because his bias had gotten him in trouble. Because he had attempted to tear a family down and Harry and Mortimer wouldn't allow it.

He had never been a fan of the Malfoys, but he didn't think stalking their every move to try to catch them in something was right. He'd learned from past mistakes. Also, the Aurors hadn't actually paid attention to their duty, which was why they got in trouble. And Harry subtly influencing one of them to spill the beans in order to take Dumbledore down as well, to get back as him for making a 'mockery' of them, was no one's business.

And now Armando Dippet, who had done nothing ever, from what Harry remembered of the man's page in **Hogwarts: A History** , was finally taking action.

So Dumbledore was no longer Deputy.

"I am instating Mr. Potter as Deputy Head effectively immediately," was Dippet's next statement, making Harry go a bit rigid in shock. "I talked it over with the Board of Governors and the other Heads of House and they agreed with me that this is for the best. If your foul attitude persists, you will be removed from your position here entirely."

And now Harry Potter was the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore obviously didn't approve but was unable to do the old grandfatherly thing he'd pulled on Fudge. "Mr. Potter is only twenty-two. He couldn't possibly be capable of handling the duties required of a Deputy. And the Head of his family must be contacted first before making any sort of decisions in involving him in political positions."

Being the Deputy Head was political? Since when?

"I spoke with Charmont Potter already and he felt that it was a brilliant idea, Albus. You have nothing that can change our minds."

And that was that.

Also, Harry needed to Floo Charmont because he hadn't spoken to the man in months and he should probably get to that if he didn't want his wife Ella coming to reprimand him. They'd been so kind to accept him into their family despite not really knowing him or his background, so it was only right. They took in a lost Potter, so Harry would play the helpful nephew when needed.

"Come Monday morning, the school will be notified and you will be on probation from taking or giving points until we can determine if your attitude has turned all the way around."

Harry Potter was now the Deputy Headmaster, five years before Armando Dippet was said to retire and pass on the position of Head to his Deputy.

Well then.

* * *

The seventh years stood before him, all looking interested and confused. He could understand though, since he was accompanied by a special guest that he literally had to jump through hoops just to interact with. And by that, he meant competition.

In order to speak with Filius Flitwick in person, Harry had to actually sign up for the annual International Dueling Championship. As per rules of the competition, his community's highest ranking Dueling Master would be sent to evaluate him and determine if he was skilled enough to enter the competition. If he was, then he would compete in many duels for the right to a Dueling Mastery. Which would look pretty on any registration or resume he filled out thenceforth.

Harry didn't really care for the competition, but meeting his old professor who wouldn't even know him, seemed like a great idea. Because Professor Flitwick had been a Dueling Master and was considered one of the best in the world. It was a high honour considering he was part Goblin and Magical Britain wasn't too kind to magical creatures and beings that weren't human.

So when he'd been contacted by the soon-to-be-professor to set up a date for his trial, he'd asked if it was okay for it to take place at Hogwarts. Specifically, during his first Dueling Club meeting with the seventh year students. And Flitwick had liked the idea and agreed to show up. Which was why his presence must have confused many people.

"So you've all decided that you want to do some extra work. Whether it be because you are genuinely interested in furthering your skills and knowledge, or because you're testing the waters for personal reasons, I thank you all for coming."

Harry had sectioned off the Great Hall for these instances and had everything set up as they should be. Straw dummies lined up on the far wall for practice, a snack table the House Elves had set up because they were dears. And one side of the room was separated by floating walls for one on one dueling. The walls were enchanted to halt any spells and to stop them from going any further than the particular confined space.

"This is Filius Flitwick," said Harry, gesturing to the half-Goblin. "He is currently Britain's highest ranking Dueling Master and he is here to test me for the upcoming International Dueling Championship. I figured that giving you all a demonstration of a real duel would be good, and he thankfully agreed."

Flitwick smiled and waved at the gathered teenagers. "I'm so happy to know that Hogwarts has started up a Dueling Club! I have a feeling you will learn very much from Mr. Potter, here! So make sure you listen to his advice."

"Thank you, sir. Shall we duel?"

They took up their positions on opposite sides of the room. A silvery bubble appeared around them thanks to Flitwick. And it was definitely Flitwick since Harry hadn't done anything. Already, he was sort of regretting this, but decided that it was best to go out with a bang. The students weren't in danger and he was up against a Champion Duelist.

Both took the proper stance and bowed low to each other, before curses were flying. Everything was silent except for the sounds of spells flying into the barrier. Purples and yellows spiraling in random directions as they deflected one another's attacks.

Harry was good at nonverbal magic. He'd built up the skill by necessity when he'd briefly served as an Auror and had to work to bring in the remaining Death Eaters still lying low after Voldemort's defeat. When in hot pursuit of someone, silently casting at them saved you from having to think further ahead. If they didn't know what was about to happen, you retained the upper hand. A common piece of knowledge.

Unfortunately for the young Defence professor, Flitwick was wasn't even old yet and still had mahogany hair and much less wrinkles than Harry was used to. Meaning he was capable of a lot more now than he was in Harry's earlier years.

Flitwick was capable of silently performing magic with his wand in one hand, while performing a completely different branch of magic, without his wand and without speaking, using only his free hand. It was incredible, to see not only the dark coloured curse flying at his face from one direction, but to also see out of his peripherals, a stone statue getting ready to flatten him.

So what to do?

Harry dove forward, slipping under the statue that ended up crashing to the floor and falling into pieces of rubble. He blocked the curse with one flick, and sent his _Patronus_ at the half-Goblin.

The serpent flowed forward at a deadly speed, pushing straight through three consecutively cast spells and knocking the small being over in the process. Harry was on his feet once more, summoning the other's wand in hopes of evening the playing field.

Flitwick, as stated earlier, did not _need_ a wand, and wasn't in any way concerned when it was taken from him. Unlike with Harry's students, the duel wasn't suddenly over just because the opponent lost their wand. The duel had only just begun, and Harry could only hope that he didn't lose grip of his own wand.

"Impressive, Mr. Potter!" crowed Flitwick, sounding as excited as he looked.

The two were eying one another up, trying to determine where they should strike first. Flitwick was lower to the ground so anything grandiose probably wouldn't be smart to use against him. It would take subtle plotting if he wanted to catch the other.

"You as well, sir."

A twinkle entered the half-Goblin's blue eyes. "Then shall we make things a little more interesting for our audience?"

"I think that is a smashing idea, sir."

Something was cast on the stone floor, covering it in a green substance that did not vanish when Harry tried to magic it away. And the substance was actually growing in size, covering the area quickly and making Harry wince, knowing instinctively that he didn't want to be touched by whatever it was.

He summoned his broom. Since Flitwick held control over the ground, Harry was going to have to take his part of the duel to the air. Thankfully, the Great Hall was vast in size and could allow for someone to fly a broom without struggle. Unfortunately, this also put Harry at a bit of a disadvantage because this meant he had to pay attention to not only his spell output, but flying in general.

And the half-Goblin did in no way blink when Harry jumped on the summoned broom. He merely started levitating shattered pieces of the statue he had used earlier, and charmed them to follow Harry around like Bludgers. In retaliation, Harry used his now advanced speed(though not too advanced since it was a 1940s broomstick) to trap Flitwick and also expose him to the affects of his own magic.

With large pieces of stone flying after Harry and Harry flying too close to the half-Goblin, it meant that he had to either evade or destroy the stones in order to avoid getting hit himself. And Harry held no compunction against flying close to the ground, so he brought the challenge willingly and laughed when his assailants were taken care of without him having to do it personally.

Harry distanced himself immediately, wanting to get a good view of his opponent. Of course, Flitwick was in no way finished, and sent a spell straight upward, which started a snowfall. A. Very. Heavy. Snowfall. And in doing so, proceeded to disrupt Harry's vision. Though it wasn't just Harry who would be affected, so it was a sort of a high risk action to take in the long run.

With a mental nod toward Hermione for teaching him, Harry spelled everything on him to be repellent to anything wet, putting him back on even footing with his old professor and clearing his glasses off.

At least, he thought he'd been. When the broom suddenly jerked under him and went flying off without him, Harry cursed to himself and barely managed to slow his descent to the stone floor in time to save his face from any damage.

Of course _Arresto Momentum_ did not stop you from hitting the ground, it merely slowed you down enough to not get hurt. Harry still landed, and what had been on the floor that he was avoiding? The green goop that Flitwick had summoned.

The moment he touched it, he found himself cocooned unwillingly, and swore as quietly as he could manage. He should have placed an anti-summoning charm on the broom, but hadn't thought it would be necessary. If it had been summoned, he assumed he would go with it and had fast enough reflexes to respond if necessary. It just went to show that assumptions were dangerous.

The duel was over, with Flitwick clapping almost hysterically. "Mr. Potter, I haven't had such a good time in a duel in almost a decade! You have a marvelous mind and the choice to use a broom was impressive. You don't think along conventional lines and I admire the innovative directions your mind took!"

It was a relief when the green stuff disappeared and Flitwick's snowfall and barrier went along with it, allowing the students to know that everything was officially finished. Said students who were staring at the two with wide eyes.

Getting to his feet, Harry made sure to bow low. "Thank you for taking me seriously. I know I'm not up to your level but it's nice to be treated equally, sir."

He got a jolly laugh in return as the other flitted on over as quickly as he could. "I am putting in my word for your participation in the Championship. It would be so interesting to see how you fair against duelists from all over the world. I do hope you win!"

They shook hands briefly, before Flitwick told the seventh years, "You have a professor with a good head on his shoulders. Do not write off anything he says. We need more minds like his out in the world. And always work smart. Hard work is impressive, but can also wear you down. Working smart saves you energy and time."

Once Flitwick had departed, Harry focused on the club members. "Shall we? Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, make sure you come back for your personal lessons at ten-thirty."

* * *

After the initial introduction that had taken almost half an hour shockingly, Harry had them line up in groups of five. One line for each practice dummy against the far wall. So seven lines in total.

Each student had three chances to cast the spell correctly and hit the target. If they failed, they moved to the back of the line so the next person could go. And Harry hadn't done the whole revision of everything they had to relearn every year since their first day inside Hogwarts. Harry actually started with spells often taught in sixth year Defence, Transfiguration, and Charms. Things they might not have as well mastered as those that came earlier.

And they had gotten through nine different spells before Harry demanded to see the Patronus Charm.

It was then that he'd been amazed. Some students were capable of a mist. Some mists were much stronger than others.

"Ms. Moran, please inform the class of what a Patronus is and the best method used in summoning one."

Melissa Moran, a bubbly Hufflepuff with red curls, gave him the textbook answer that he of course expected. He nodded to show that she wasn't necessarily wrong, but then turned his attention upon Tom whom he hadn't really spent time on because Tom had obviously mastered all of his spells.

"Mr. Riddle, we have discussed this previously. Why is using a memory not a smart move?"

Tom drew himself up subtly. Importantly. "Wracking your brain for a memory when you are facing a Dementor or a Lethifold, wastes valuable time. There is also a case for some people being without good memories, or memories strong enough to power a Patronus that is strong enough to take corporeal form. Therefore, your advice was to use a happy thought. Something that makes you happy, would still be good enough because a Patronus is fueled by joy and does not specifically need only one _type_ of joy."

"Correct. For those curious, Mr. Riddle came to me for advice." He then turned back to Tom. "Have you been practicing?"

And without even answering, Tom turned to the dummy and intoned, " _Expecto Patronum._ "

A snake. The silvery mist coiled into the shape of a snake the calmly floated in the air, to circle the dummy once and return to the teen, curling around Tom's shoulders. Tom Riddle, the young man that had gone on to become Lord Voldemort in Harry's world, had managed to cast a Patronus.

Even with four official murders and one unofficial murder under his belt, Tom was not considered evil. If a truly evil being attempted to cast a Patronus, they would be eaten alive by maggots. It was magic's personal reprimand for the actions said magical had taken.

Tom was not considered an evil person by magic's standards. Why? The murder of an innocent was supposed to be the most horrible action to take. Tom had murdered the Riddles and then some woman. Harry was very confused and wondered what exactly had happened for them not to be considered evil actions.

Dumbledore had never known the details of what exactly happened and simply went with his own assumptions as if they were truth. But this was another world. This wasn't exactly the same Tom Riddle Harry had met when he was much younger. This was an entirely new world, mostly because time-travel was fickle and dangerous and the last person to travel back more than a day well and truly fucked up a lot and Harry's team had to be sent in to stop it before it happened. It was hell and he hated it, but that was a story for another time.

Dimension hopping was easier in the long run than time-travel, plain and simple.

Tom Riddle wasn't evil. Tom could cast a Patronus. This Tom was vastly different even with just a few months of changes. Harry hadn't done much and yet big things were changing anyway.

It was amazing.

He awarded Tom points for the first time. Fifty because he was so impressed.

And Tom's winning smile made Harry feel a lot happier than it should. But his student had accomplished something that most still struggled with into adulthood. Of course Harry would be really pleased.

The warm feeling in his gut was happiness, right?

* * *

"Mort, what exactly is it that makes Tom not evil?" asked Harry later that evening as he read through the paperwork that came with being the Deputy Head of a school. He had to familiarise himself with rules and regulations and what sort of power he had in his new position.

And it was a lot. So of course Mortimer(Death) was there to keep him company and make things less dull. Or rather, to talk his ear off about inconsequential matters until Harry finally thought up something interesting to talk about.

"I think Tom should tell you personally since you might understand his reasoning better. But I can tell you that the Riddles were not innocent. No, they did not deserve to be assaulted by Marvolo and Morfin constantly, nor did Tom Sr. deserve to be bewitched and raped, but they were also nothing pure and sacred. Neither was the woman used for the Ring Horcrux. She had a long time connection to the Riddles and it wasn't in any way pleasant. I personally applaud the boy's actions against them."

"You're Death, though. You like killing and murder and unfortunate ends," Harry pointed out, intrigued by the fact that the Riddles and the woman weren't 'innocent'. Hadn't Tom used their 'innocent' murders to make another Horcrux? Didn't Horcruxes _need_ to be made by murdering innocents? Otherwise they wouldn't be considered the most disgusting creations to exist. "Fine. I'll find out eventually. With the way things are going, it probably wouldn't take long. Though I don't want to just rudely ask." He wasn't _that_ uncouth.

"You'll find out more than you think when you do, believe me."

"Hm?"

Mortimer said nothing. And Harry was left wondering about the ways in which a Horcrux was properly made, and wondering if Tom, who admitted to not personally ordering Myrtle's death, had actually done the ritual correctly his first few times. Or did he somehow make a mistake?

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

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	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER  
and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

-A pretty normal chapter of Tom's introspection. Keeping Tom  
busy is important. **Ch. 18** is already on AO3.

* * *

Everything picked up after the very first Dueling Club meeting. Professor Potter seemed even busier than before, and that was because he'd been made the new Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts. And that particular revaluation was met with intense applause from all of the students. Because he'd quickly become everyone's favourite after the first term had begun and he'd proven himself.

The Monday after the first Dueling Club meeting, Headmaster Dippet stood and gave a long and tedious speech that was far too long to anyone's good, about how Dumbledore had other business to attend to and could not dedicate enough time to being the Deputy. Therefore, it was after some consideration and a vote by the staff, that Professor Potter take up Dumbledore's former position. And Dumbledore was scarcely seen except in class after that.

Tom knew what it was truly about though. Having a member of your staff being investigated by law enforcement for nefarious actions toward not only students of your school, but also toward high-ranking families in the British community, would make Dippet look bad. Especially if he allowed Dumbledore to keep such a position of power. Therefore replacing Dumbledore was basically done to save his own hide and keep him in people's good graces.

Ever since then, Dumbledore hadn't been taking or giving points either. While curious, Tom could guess about what had happened. Still, Slytherin had a bet going around. Some thought he was trying to appear innocent while others were of the belief that he was no longer allowed to handle House points. Tom was among those who supported the latter claim, not that he would tell anyone. It might give some of them ideas. Ideas along the line of them being important to him in any way, which a negative.

Dumbledore having no power in the school was good enough for him though. And he was pleased with Professor Potter being the new Deputy Head, even if it meant that the man was far too busy to really do anything outside of classwork. But the man still managed to make everything work in the end, and Tom could only admire him the more for it.

Lord Malfoy, according to Abraxas, was ecstatic. After all, Dumbledore had tipped off the Aurors and participated in the raiding of Malfoy Manor, even if it was done from afar. So seeing him crashing and burning was certainly something he reveled in. Tom was as equally pleased, but managed to appear unaffected most of the time. So as not to appear cocksure and ruin his image. It was especially important now to play the good boy because the investigation included him to an extent, so he had to be nice until the Aurors had all they needed.

While Dumbledore's drama was entertaining and was enough to keep people in line, Tom was focused more on others things at present. Specifically, the Animagus training he was about to take up. He'd discovered a way to keep a Mandrake leaf in his mouth without it falling out or him accidentally chewing it to pieces. Since Tom couldn't afford silence for a month straight, nor could he neglect to eat, he had to think up another method.

Which lead him to the thin piece of glamoured metal that he'd wrapped the leaf around. He then covered that in protective charms so it wouldn't get destroyed, and used a sticking charm to adhere it to one of his molars so it couldn't go anywhere. It didn't obstruct his speech too much, and he had finally gotten another skill of his under control. Said skill would work to trick others into thinking he was talking when he was actually using his mind only.

His Occlumency training had advanced even further over the holidays and he'd managed to finish his mind palace that was an imitation of Hogwarts. And with his strengthened control over his magic, he'd managed to perfect a little skill he'd cultivated when he was young. But instead of ordering animals to do whatever he wanted them to do, now he simply ' _spoke_ ' normally. All without opening his mouth. But his voice still came out anyway, and should he move his mouth, no one would notice the difference. At least none of the students would be smart enough to notice.

Tom felt so proud of himself. He wondered if Professor Potter would be amazed by this new undertaking. After all, how many people were capable of the same thing? This had to put him above his peers in the man's eyes. After all, Tom was the only student currently capable of a corporeal Patronus, and he would be training his Animagus ability soon, which would mean he and Potter would share advanced skills finally. Meaning Tom would be doing better than his fellow seventh years were, just like Professor Potter expected of him.

The N.E.W.T.s were coming upon them very quickly, and Tom had set aside more time for studying now that he didn't need to meditate so often. With a Patronus that was corporeal, and a mind palace, he would say that he'd done well for himself, and he could go back to dividing his attention between personal interests and studying for the end of the year exams. He was confident in his future test scores, since he'd managed twelve O.W.L.s when he was fifteen. Therefore, he should be able to get the same amount in N.E.W.T.s now that he knew better than before.

Many times Tom found himself reading through the book Professor Potter had lent him. He'd learned more about Salazar than any other book had managed to tell him and it was in equal parts amazing and disappointing.

None of the legends or myths surrounding the Slytherin name, were pleasant. Everyone basically ' _knew_ ' what was the common belief about Slytherin and his views on everything. But in reality, they were very wrong. And it proved the only smart thing Professor Binns had ever said. Legends always held a grain of truth, but were mostly twisted by the victors to appear in their favour.

Since Slytherins had bad reputations, of course people would twist their image even further. And to think, serpents were used as symbols for healing in most societies, but in Magical Britain, they were considered no better than demons. And there were people willing to kill snakes just upon seeing them, simply because they were that prejudiced.

Salazar Slytherin was a cunning man who always thought many steps ahead, and not just for himself, but for the people he considered to be under his protection. Meaning the inhabitants of Hogwarts as a whole.

How the tale of the Founders morphed from four friends searching to protect magic and all it existed within, into three friends and an evil man who sought to control them, made no sense to Tom.

Though he could guess where it started. After all, Slytherin made very specific note of Godric's wife's younger sister and Salazar's son having a falling out which resulted in Godric jumping to conclusions and Salazar having to banish his own son from the castle because Gryffindor couldn't be objective and listen to both sides of the story first.

Which started the feud in a sense, because Godric never used his head in important matters and Salazar's family was forever affected because of it. And in the end, it was revealed the the younger sister had been in the wrong all along, but Godric had refused to apologise even when he'd learned he was wrong, because his ego was too massive to handle it. An that was what ultimately drove the Slytherins from Hogwarts because if a grown man couldn't be bothered to act like one in the end, then Salazar refused to associate with him any longer.

Drama was nowhere near as interesting as people made it seem. A fight over a pet snake had escalated into a feud that lasted centuries. Tom wished time-travel was possible so he could go back and smack everyone involved. He hated stupidity.

* * *

Professor Potter had started teaching the fourth years the Patronus Charm and had so casually mentioned that Tom was the only student currently who could perform it. And Tom found himself surrounded by Ravenclaws and a few Hufflepuffs, offering him _things_ in return for assistance.

Many things could be said about the other Houses, but they were not idiots. They knew the best way to a Slytherin's heart was to give them something they wanted in return for services. Give and take was very important in the Slytherin Common Room. It was the basis for many interactions.

Tom found himself with many favours to call upon and even money. In exchange, he set aside one of his studying times a week to help the students out. And to his immense surprise, many of them had already started producing silvery mists.

If this wasn't proof that he was meant to teach, he didn't know what was.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

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	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

-Tom is still obsessed. Tom takes part in an activity  
he usually avoids. Harry gets embarrassed.

* * *

 _For a time we had a peace. And that peace was something none_  
 _of us would ever trade. But as always, all good things must come_  
 _to an end. The darkness that settled over Hogwarts that morning_  
 _was one I would never wish upon anyone. And with it came a most_  
 _foreboding feeling. An omen._

 _As if sensing the incoming danger, the sun had disappeared behind_  
 _the darkest clouds we'd ever seen. And in the distance were lights._  
 _None of which any of us were personally acquainted with at least in_  
 _such magnitude. A single light up close was not a foreign sight but_  
 _many at once was trouble._

 _The glowing stomachs of the dragons could be seen from afar off,_  
 _and it gave us enough time to react to the incoming invasion. I had_  
 _always believed that Godric's desire for a dragon was ridiculous, yet_  
 _in that moment I couldn't be any more grateful for his ostentatious_  
 _attitude. It truly saved the school that day._

 _We four had stood our ground upon the stone turrets and cast our_  
 _most powerful protective enchantments around the castle. And the_  
 _glowing orb alerted our enemies to our knowledge of their coming._  
 _But we were ready, and when the fire rained down from above as_  
 _the winged creatures surrounded us, we unleashed Hogwarts' own_  
 _defenses._

 _Godric's dragon and my beloved Basilisk, Isembard attacked our_  
 _flying foes relentlessly. The sight of dozens of dragons falling from_  
 _the sky upon meeting my precious Isembard's gaze, was one I will_  
 _never forget. And with his assistance, we managed to even out the_  
 _field of battle considerably, leaving the magical humans for us to_  
 _handle personally, and the rest of the dragons to suffer._

 _We did not lose children thankfully, but the castle suffered much_  
 _damage from it being too difficult to keep up the protections and_  
 _fight at the same time. The rebuilding took years to work through_  
 _I have been told._

 _I lost my dear Isembard that day, but in his memory, I hatched my_  
 _beloved Cici. She was naught but a hatchling when I left the school,_  
 _but she needed to stay to protect the students. It was the duty I had_  
 _hatched her for. I miss her._

 _I miss Hogwarts. But it is better this way._

* * *

The morning paper had held unpleasant news regarding the magical war and the actions of Grindelwald. The current European Dark Lord was causing mayhem even more frequently than he'd been before. And to Tom, it seemed almost frantic in a sense.

It was late February and it didn't appear as if the war would end anytime soon. And the students all knew that eventually Grindelwald would try his hand in Britain. He was taking over the continent and it made sense to make Magical Britain his next conquest since Britain had one of the largest and oldest Magical Communities in the world.

Of course there were rumors that the man hadn't invaded the community yet because of Dumbledore. Tom wasn't certain how much stock he could put into such a claim, but he was aware that for the entire time the prodigy known as Albus Dumbledore resided as a teacher at Hogwarts, Gellert Grindelwald never stepped foot into Great Britain. There was an attempt before Dumbledore earned his teaching post, but afterward, there was nothing on British soil, to show that the Dark Lord had been there.

However, now the Daily Prophet was making comments on how Grindelwald seemed to be coming closer. That his mark was being magically burned into buildings and that he and his followers were making their way across the continent in a most jagged journey. Mapping of their appearances were sporadic at best.

The entire Great Hall was full of whispers and even his Slytherins seemed concerned about the happenings.

Grindelwald boasted a desire for Muggle subjugation which was all well and good, but surely he knew that there were too many Muggles to just force them into complacency? The rumors of him controlling Adolf Hitler, the man at the forefront of the second Muggle World War, seemed to hold some truth. His Muggle puppet was busy making the Muggle world cower, but the simple fact of it, was that not everyone was cowering and many were fighting back.

And there would always be people fighting back. This was what made Grindelwald's plan flawed in Tom's mind. Tom didn't like Muggles either, but he would much prefer to ignore them and not think of them at all. He didn't have such a luxury since he had to go back to Muggle London every summer. He had to go and be reminded of just what they could do, which was why he was for keeping them and magic separated completely.

If people felt threatened, eventually those who got tired of feeling scared, would rise up and cause a ruckus. It was best for people to respect those in charge. It was even better for them to think they are the reason the person was in charge to begin with. Less chance for opposition.

Hitler was experiencing some struggles, and Grindelwald hadn't gained control of all of the magical world. Puppet and master seemed to be floundering, looking for something to help them.

Tom looked toward the professors, who were also talking among one another over the current events that would no doubt be history one day. Professor Potter seemed the most distracted despite the fact that his own copy of the Prophet was levitating in front of his face while he sipped his favourite tea.

His eyes were unseeing, taking no note of the words before him as he occasionally lifted his cup to his lips. Tom wondered what he was thinking about.

"Professor Potter seems concerned," Abraxas noted without an ounce of subtlety, much to Tom's annoyance.

Nott and Greengrass nodded their agreement, though Nott seemed more willing to speak his thoughts. "Dumbledore is as equally worried. Though to be honest, unlike the Gryffindors who feel safe because Dumbledore is here, I feel more safe knowing Potter is here. He is far more impressive and I feel he'd be capable of holding Grindelwald off."

All those who heard turned to look at the youngest professor of the school. A chorus of agreements followed soon after. "Too true," Greengrass nodded.

Grindelwald had proven that he would slaughter even Purebloods to get his way, which was why so many were terrified of what he represented. There was no safety for anyone in the magical war. This wasn't being done to make magic what it used to be in the eyes of the world. And it wasn't being done in hopes of bringing back the more forgotten Artes. This was simple greed to benefit Grindelwald alone.

Tom wondered if Potter knew that the Slytherins held him in such high regard. And Tom was among them though he would never admit such views aloud when surrounded by his minions. It wouldn't do for anyone to entertain feelings of ' _equality_ ' when thinking of Tom Marvolo Riddle. They were _not_ his equals.

"Who wants to bet that Professor Potter will defeat Grindelwald?" Abraxas proposed, holding up his bulging coin purse and smirking darkly at the group.

Carrow scoffed. "A fool's bet. Perhaps we should re-word it. How about a wager on _when_ Professor Potter will defeat Grindelwald? We can pool our money and the winner gets the whole cauldron."

Everyone seemed keen on the idea and put forth their bets immediately.

 **Abraxas Malfoy-** 100 Galleons. Early August 1944.  
 **Marlo Nott-** 25 Galleons. Mid-September of 1944.  
 **Basil Greengrass-** 50 Galleons. June of 1944.  
 **Enver Carrow-** 20 Galleons. Yule of 1944.  
 **Varvava Carrow-** 20 Galleons. Easter of 1944.  
 **Brais Zabini-** 50 Galleons. January of 1945.  
 **Nestor Goyle-** 20 Galleons. 1 week before Valentine's Day in 1946.  
 **Tavish Crabbe-** 20 Galleons. 2 weeks before Valentine's Day of 1946.  
 **Perseus Mulciber-** 25 Galleons. May of 1945.  
 **Jubilee Avery-** 55 Galleons. 1 week after the summer hols begin in 1945.

Tom mentally added up the numbers and nodded to himself, liking them very much. And because he was around Professor Potter more than the others, he might just be able to convince the man to go after Grindelwald personally. And as Tom intended on applying for a job at Hogwarts once he graduated, he would have even more of a chance to speak with the man. After all, who would turn away Hogwarts' best student?

The gold was placed in a Shrinking Cauldron, so that they could regulate the size of it if more money was added. Each of the participants swore to acknowledge the true winner fairly and honestly, and the Prediction Charm for fair wagers was added for good measure.

Feeling confident, Tom reached into his robes and withdrew his own coin purse. He proceeded to dump 25 Galleons into the cauldron and take up the same Magical Oath as his fellows. "I predict Professor Potter's defeat of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, to come the first week of April in the year 1945."

It was half of what he'd managed to save thus far thanks to the various students coming to him for assistance in tutoring. And if he played his cards right, he would get even more in return.

The others eyed him warily, looking less sure of their presumptions now but being unable to take them back once the Oath and Charm were set. Tom rarely participated in such things, but this he had full certainty that he could manipulate to his liking.

Once all bets were placed, with a few more adding their gold to the cauldron and bringing it out to 500+ Galleons going to the winner, the cauldron disappeared, and would only reappear when the winning prediction came true, as per rules of the charm.

Tom could do a lot with 500 Galleons. And so many books could be purchased that way. Books meant information. Information brought knowledge. Knowledge was power.

He was looking forward to Harry Potter defeating Gellert Grindelwald no matter how it happened.

* * *

As March came, Tom was once again made aware of the International Dueling Championship coming up in July and how Professor Potter would be competing for a Mastery. A new bet was going around Slytherin House, and nearly everyone had varying opinions on what would happen.

Some students even offered to help their favourite professor practice by dueling him ten to one.

It might seem unfair to the Hufflepuffs who refused to partake in such a task, but it was actually in Potter's benefit. It would help him deviate his attention properly. The man always won such duels, even when Tom participated in them. He was simply better and capable of thinking on his feet. He had an unconventional approach to magic and Tom made certain to take note of it.

Spells he never would consider using in a fight had been cast. One that made the victim speak only in limericks if they tried opening their mouths, meaning they could only use nonverbal spells if they knew any at all. Another that was used as a punishment for bad language, caused the tongue to sting terribly making it difficult to focus one's attention elsewhere and thereby making it almost impossible to cast at all.

The Dueling Club was progressing nicely. More people were capable of casting the Patronus after each meeting. Potter was encouraging and kind. He also informed them that they could get extra points for their O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. DADA grades should they master the charm by then. Extra credit of any kind was always appreciated, making the students work harder.

Potter's class was on the same level as always despite the work no doubt piled onto his shoulders thanks to his additional duties as Deputy Headmaster. The man made multi-tasking seem easy. Tom could only hope to have such skill when it came to his cause in the future.

And he managed to learn something else about the professor that no other student did, and it was all because of Tom bringing back the professor's book on the Founders in order to trade it in for the book on the Gaunts.

Tom had nearly run into a woman coming out of his favourite professor's office. She was on the short side, with a heart-shaped face and a widow's peak. Her dark hair was long and plaited, and her eyes were topaz, if that was possible. Her clothes were an obvious mark of her wealth but she didn't appear to be pompous like most of the rich children he knew.

"Apologies," he murmured, plastering his most charming smile on his face for the woman.

She waved him off. "It's nothing, dear. Are you here to see my sweet Harry?" Her smile was wide, carefree, and all-encompassing.

"Ellie!" Professor Potter's voiced rang from within the office, sounding very much mortified.

'Ellie' turned in the doorway and crooned, "My very sweet and very single nephew!"

So she was his aunt. Tom realised a second too late that this had to be Ella Potter, current Lady of the Potter Family and wife to Charmont Potter. Their son Charlus had graduated in Tom's first year, so he never truly got to know the man.

He also didn't miss the not-so-subtle suggestion at his professor's unattachment to another being. And if he was being honest with himself, he very much liked the idea of being in a relationship with Harry Potter. He was obsessed with the man already and having the man all to himself would make his magic sing.

"Tom is a student!" Potter blustered, much to Tom's pleasure. He liked hearing his name coming from the man. When he looked over Ella Potter's head, Tom could see Potter sitting at his desk, looking as if he wanted the portal to Hell to open up and swallow him immediately. His flushed face was a lovely compliment to his features.

Ella's head drew back so she could cackle, throwing her entire self into it. "Not for long, dear!" She turned back to Tom and extended a hand. "Ella Potter."

He made sure to place a light kiss on the back of her hand, offering his knee-weakening grin again. "Tom Riddle, Lady Potter. It's a pleasure to meet such a lovely woman as yourself."

He got a twinkling wink in return. And unlike Dumbledore who was simply unnerving when he twinkled and winked at people, this felt conspiratorial and teasing. Like Tom was in on whatever she was thinking and she considered him an equal. "Such charms worthy of a Slytherin, Mr. Riddle. I myself was a Slytherin many years ago." She leaned in, pitching her voice down so only he could hear. "As a Dark Witch, I married a Grey aligned wizard and have been perfectly happy for over two decades. A little advice for a fellow Dark individual, that a difference in cores will not get in the way of a romance so long as you don't make a big deal of it," she said, gesturing toward Professor Potter with an insistent tilt of the head.

Because Potter's core was Grey, as he'd once told Tom. And Tom's was Dark.

Ella stepped back. "I need to get going. Harry dear, do Floo us a bit more often will you? And come home for Easter!"

She was gone before either Potter or Tom could say anything.

"I'm so sorry about her, Mr. Riddle, she can be very vocal about what she wants. Years with a Gryffindor have worn away her subtlety as you saw."

Tom shook his head, not really minding a bit. It let him in a little more on the man's life. He seemed to be on good terms with his aunt and uncle. He was _'very single_ '. And he was a blushing mess when his romantic life became a topic of conversation, which most likely meant he was inexperienced in relationships. It was nice to know. Tom's greedy need to know more was practically pounding at his skull.

"It's fine." More than fine really. "I merely came to return your book." Though honestly he wanted to hoard it for himself. But it wasn't his and unlike some students, Tom didn't steal people's belongings. So long as they didn't anger him. A spoil of war was different than blatant thievery in his opinion.

Potter smiled and thanked him. A silver book from the shelf slipped out of place and floated toward Tom. "As promised. Treat it very carefully. It cost a lot to get my hands on that and is worth almost as much as Salazar's book was."

"Thank you, sir." He couldn't wait to learn more about his ancestry. Morfin and Marvolo had next to nothing for him to learn. The Gaunts had been very poor at keeping records of their history.

Before leaving however, Tom felt compelled to ask, "Are you feeling well, sir?" He looked stressed and tired.

The minute look of shock he got in response made him want to smirk, but he withheld the powerful urge. He was a Slytherin! He could contain himself until he was alone!

A slow, and dare he say _sweet_ , smile was aimed his way. "Not really, but it isn't something pressing. Thank you for your concern though."

"If it does become pressing, please see Madam Vinch. The students value you too much for you to become ill."

He took his leave before anything else could be said, feeling flushed and not wanting the man to see his embarrassment.

Tom had mentally included himself in with the student body in his statement. However his value of Potter was a lot higher than what was considered normal.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **How was it? Let me know!**

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	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta,**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

-Tom's seventh year comes to a close and yet things are not over.  
There are still two wars happening on either side of the divide and  
people are dying. Not to mention the Dueling Championship that's  
coming up soon. And all the while, Tom's obsession with Potter will  
continue to grow.

* * *

Tom began enforcing his demands over his fellow Slytherins. The end of the year exams were coming sooner than any of them would like to think, and for the seventh years that meant their N.E.W.T.s. And as those were always more difficult, they required more studying and consideration than anything else at present.

He wanted the entirety of Slytherin to do well on their exams. Even the somewhat challenged students were expected to scrape by with Acceptables because he refused to have his minions poorly representing him in any manner. And they all knew that if there was so much as one Troll, all hell would be set loose upon them.

Their reviews in class had become more intense as well.

Professor Potter had been the most strict with them because he expected more out of his students than any other teacher had during Tom's time at Hogwarts. He had a mental scale of where seventeen/eighteen year olds should be in terms of magical skills and put them to the test during every class and every club meeting. He pushed them harder than he ever had before and didn't accept excuses.

The interesting thing about his teachings, was that he focused a lot more on defensive tactics even while using offensive spells. Potter didn't want anyone to end up stranded should they somehow get caught in the crossfires of Grindelwald's forces. He wanted to arm them with the means to escape such a situation should it potentially arise, but he did not want them to have to fight for their lives.

And Tom hadn't minded when he realised just what the man he admired was doing. Potter actually cared. Sometimes it felt like the teachers truly didn't care about the students because they were just passing faces. Within seven years this batch would be gone and would be replaced like always. Every school was a revolving door basically. But it was obvious that Potter cared and was trying his best to help their future endeavours.

The man had been new but was sacrificing sleep and time because he wanted to help the students learn more easily. Because he wanted them to actually reach the potential they all possessed. Because Potter saw something in each and every student and decided that it was something worth his attention. Something worth the amount of effort he put in to help them.

Personally, Tom couldn't say he saw the same, but he at least appreciated that Potter would be so optimistic. Even when optimism seemed pointless sometimes. At least Potter had faith in his students. And he didn't judge them based upon prior actions of theirs.

All Tom needed to do was to study as much as possible in between all the small tutoring sessions he'd been giving to the younger students who'd been paying for his help.

He really needed to become a teacher. There was just something about watching people succeed because of _him_. And he knew it was because of him since so many of those students would still be utterly hopeless without his aid.

Tom had to make sure that when he came to Hogwarts to apply for a job, he did it when Dumbledore wasn't around so he couldn't attempt to interfere. And he knew very well that Dumbledore would no doubt try to put a wrench in his plans even if he didn't know what they were exactly.

* * *

The Slytherins were whispering thanks to the recent article in the Daily Prophet. Dumbledore had been landed with major fines though the details had remained private. Still, the knowledge of his suffering made many hearts feel lighter as the N.E.W.T.s drew nearer. The Slytherins were espeically pleased with this information since it felt like the man was finally getting his comeuppance after years of being an arsehole with contradictory views.

Dippet was constantly on edge during meals recently, and it probably had to do with how he hated confrontation. The man was like a wet doormat and didn't really like doing much of anything. He was also relatively easily to manipulate if one knew how.

His former Deputy being investigated made him look bad for never noticing anything he had done before Lord Malfoy lodged a complaint. And people liked to talk in the wizarding world. No one was a stranger to rumours and Tom had heard a few people wondering none too quietly, if he'd been in on Dumbledore's actions because Dumbledore was so famous so he'd get away with more than others would. Had Dippet possibly turned a blind eye to his attitude because of who Dumbledore was? Or had Dumbledore bribed him somehow?

This left the man in a precarious position and he had to tread carefully lest he lose his own job.

Truthfully, Potter would be a better Headmaster than anyone else on the staff.

* * *

"Thank Merlin that it's all over!" said Abraxas as he pretended to faint onto one of the green sofas of the Common Room. "I never want to see another book or piece of parchment every again!" he cried dramatically.

"If you wish to become the Lord of your House you'll have to suck it up," said Nott blandly, holding up the very thing Abraxas claimed to never want to lay eyes on again. "Otherwise I'm certain your parents will gladly try for another child if it bothers you that much."

There was a shared look of disgust from all but Tom, who didn't care enough about things not about him to be emotionally invested in them. Tom was busy reading through the review he'd made for his Charms N.E.W.T. and nodded to himself as he noted every single thing that had been asked on the Theoretical exam. And then of course the Practical where he'd scored an extra point for his Corporeal Patronus.

That same day, he'd also taken his Transfiguration N.E.W.T. and he'd gotten an extra five points because of his Animagus form.

Yes, Tom had succeeded! Months ago he'd done the entire ritual to the exact measure and had finally managed to figure out his Animagus form. No surprise, it was a snake. And use of the Room of Requirement allowed him to make use of a room full of mirrors so her could see just what kind of snake he was.

He was an all-black Horned Viper with equally black eyes to show that he wasn't a natural serpent. Horned Vipers weren't black. They were usually shades similar to sand or dirt in order to camouflage themselves more easily. He had two pointed horns atop his head as well as had the venom the common serpents of the species possessed. He was sure of how to use it yet but he'd get there eventually.

And when he Transfigured himself right in front of the examiner, the woman had tittered with excitement and called him a genius as she batted her lashes in exaggeration. She also handed over a form for him to fill out so the Ministry could register him immediately. He'd received high praise for his accomplishment since not many magicals even attempted to become Animagi and certainly never before graduation.

He'd put in the time and effort and while he'd attained his form months back, he'd practiced consistently in order to officially debut it for his N.E.W.T. exam. That way he could do it on command and it seemed more impressive that way.

Perfection was what Tom strove for. Among other things of course.

He'd been assured that he'd set the record for the youngest Animagus in British history. It was a pleasing piece of information and made his day all the better.

Tom always did love succeeding.

And at some point in the future he would have more time on hand to fully explore what he was capable of when in his snake form. He could imagine all the spying possibilities!

* * *

Tom entered Professor Potter's office with slight trepidation. He didn't actually know why the man had called him over, but he knew it at least had to be important.

The man was seated as usual, though his hair was a bigger mess than it usually was, and he looked so very tired. Like he was out on the front lines of either war and was just done with everything. There were literal lines on his face.

"Mr. Riddle, I know it's a bit sudden to just be calling up up here but I felt it urgent to speak with you."

"Is this about my N.E.W.T. score, sir?" No one could blame Tom for being worried around his grades. They were the most important things to him at present. All Tom really had to his name was his intellect. And Parseltongue, but for things publicly expressed, his intelligence was it.

The older man shook his head. "I simply felt it better to inform you of this in private. London was bombed yesterday."

"Again?" was the only thing he could ask. Over the past several years, London had been perpetually bombed over and over. He'd managed to never be there personally when it happened, but London was a major city and as such, it was often a target of the Nazis. Still, mid-June of 1944 and they were still bombing London!

Why anyone would _choose_ to continue living in such a place when it was constantly under attack made no sense to him. The orphanage itself had been lucky enough to escape any damage, not that the buildings around it were lucky enough to say the same. In fact, on the very block of road, Wool's was the only building still relatively intact if one didn't count the already numerous damages from years of disrepair. It was over a century old after all.

"I'm afraid so. The bombs were a lot larger this time and caused considerable damage. I felt it best to warn you ahead of time. I do not know if you intend to go back once you graduate or not, but it's always best to be aware or your surroundings."

Thank Merlin Tom had in fact _not_ been planning to go back. And really, who would miss him in that hellhole he grew up in? They'd just think of him as another casualty of war and for once he wouldn't mind that in the least. Their opinions meant nothing to him. He'd be doing things they could only dream of once the time came.

"I won't be returning there, sir. But thank you for your concern."

He was… dare he say, _touched_ that the man felt enough concern over his well being. No one ever truly had before. Not that Tom ever really _had_ anyone that would care about him anyway.

Potter smiled a small smile that was filled with both sadness and relief. "Forgive me for intruding but will you have somewhere to stay after the term ends?"

Not really. He could probably get an invitation to spend the summer with Abraxas, but he wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to. On one hand he wanted to be on his own to do things on his own and explore his interests on his own, but on another he longed to remain at Hogwarts. He knew he'd miss everything but the other students.

"I'll take your silence as a negative."

Tom willed his face to not blush because he didn't like blushing and didn't like expressing common emotions. And he didn't want Professor Potter to see him when he wasn't in perfect control. The man had already seen enough emotion from Tom and Merlin forbid he see more.

Potter fiddled with his spectacles for a moment, tossing them between his hands without a thought. "As you can imagine, I am being stretched a little thin when it comes to all the work I'm doing now. I simply have too much to focus on at present and I _might_ need some assistance come the new term."

Was he honestly doing what Tom thought he was doing? Tom held his breath in anticipation, afraid to get his hopes up too much.

"Perhaps you can apply to be a Teacher's Assistant. Mine, to be more precise. And you and I would have control over the DADA classes and would be working together to instruct the students. I will still maintain control over the Dueling Club, but my duties as Deputy Headmaster are unfortunately very taxing and time consuming, and there is more to do than you'd think."

"Yes," was all Tom could say. Because he'd been given essentially what he'd wanted. He would work at Hogwarts and stay where he'd longed to be. He'd have a guaranteed place to sleep and food every day. And he would have access to the Library and wouldn't be forbidden from the Restricted Section because he would no longer be a student. And he'd be around Potter every single day. It was all he could ask for.

Potter smiled much brighter this time, and Tom could feel the odd lightness in his stomach in response to how charming the man appeared. And how effortless it was for him too.

"I'm glad. You are a model student. You are intelligent and from what I've heard of your N.E.W.T. scores, you set some records. And the benefit of assisting me will aide you in the long haul. Especially when I intend to win that Dueling Mastery come July."

Ah, yes. If the man managed to become a Dueling Master, then Tom would be able to learn more from him than a usual student would and no one could claim favouritism.

"Thank you, sir."

"In order for us to truly mesh well, we'll need to spend this summer getting better acquainted, don't you think? I'll inform the Elves that your possessions will be moved to your new room post haste."

Tom was going to be working at Hogwarts. Despite the unpleasant news about London, this ended up being a great day for him.

* * *

The very last day. As a student at least. This wasn't Tom's last day at Hogwarts in general, but he was still feeling a little emotional at the thought of how a few weeks ago he'd been under the impression that he'd have to stay in Diagon Alley all summer, possibly struggling to get by until he could hopefully apply for a job at Hogwarts. Possibly having to listen to the explosions not too far away from where he'd sleep. And now he was sure of the fact that he was going to be okay. He was in the safest place in the British Isles.

Nothing could get to him here. And Professor Potter was perfectly fine with him staying over the summer. In fact, he wasn't the only one staying. With Dumbledore no longer in Dippet's favour, Dippet was easier to convince of certain things. And Potter was the favourite professor, as well as his Deputy, so listening to him was a good idea.

Four other muggle-raised students would be staying over the summer because they too lived in London and it was too dangerous to go back yet. Potter had already set up rooms for their families to use if they had to come to Hogwarts to escape the tragedy. Tom had already seen the tears of absolute gratitude for the man's actions and would admit to himself alone that he'd also felt a little emotional as well.

How was it that Potter could understand the absolute seriousness of the muggle world war, but Dumbledore, a fellow Halfblood just like them, couldn't?

It was like every time he turned around, Potter gave Tom another reason to admire him.

Tom's only regret was that Potter hadn't come to them years ago, where he would have no doubt done something then as well. Tom wasn't blind to the fact that some students never came back. And he understood exactly why things like that happened.

If only Potter, or someone at least like Potter, had been around when the bombings had started. Tom could think of so many students who would still be here.

A lot of magical people liked to claim they cared about muggleborns and muggle-raised children, but even the most Light of magical users overlooked those very people all the time. Sure, they bent some of the old laws and traditions to better cater to those new individuals, but did they ever really stop to think about truly integrating them into their society? No.

It was a glaring fault in all magical communities around the world.

But Tom could see that Potter wanted to change that. Because he actually gave a damn about everyone.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

-London was actually bombed during mid-June of 1944. It was the first use  
of a specific type of bomb too.

 **How was it? Let me know!**

 **Check out my many other Harrymort/Tomarry fics!**

 **See ya! :D**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

* * *

The very first day where he was no longer a Hogwarts student, Tom found himself perusing the library's Restricted Section. As he was now free to come and go as he pleased since he was legally an adult as well as a new member of the staff, he decided to get in as much study time as he could while he had the chance. And that meant research.

There was a limit to how many books he could remove from the Restricted Section at once though. And that was one. A single book was allowed to leave through one person at a time no matter who it was, just as a precaution. It was definitely a bit of a setback but Tom was just grateful to even be able to get to the books in the first place without someone interfering, so he wouldn't dare complain to anyone about it or they might think him too immature to handle the responsibility and may ban him. Also it would no doubt have Potter angry and Tom didn't want that.

He had full use of any of the school owls and he got a first hand look at who was caring for them. Hagrid. The boy was being groomed to be the perfect groundskeeper and often times, Tom would see him thumping along behind Dumbledore as they went on walks of the grounds. Tom made sure to avoid those places once he memorised their schedule well enough. While not necessarily feeling hatred toward the boy, he was angry at Dumbledore's insistence upon pampering him and favouring his precious Gryffindors all the damn time.

Dumbledore didn't seem to have a life outside of Hogwarts which was exceedingly annoying. He was always around even when he shouldn't be. Others like Slughorn, had homes to get to and living family to spend time with. And friends to see whenever they wanted. Apparently, the great Dumbledore had none of that save for a brother who lived in Hogsmeade and didn't like him all too much, which Tom found to be amusing, and a couple men here and there who rarely visited the school.

The paragon of Light and goodness wasn't even liked by his own family and could count his number of friends on one hand. Now if only Tom knew the reasons behind such things, then he'd be able to use the information to his advantage.

Being able to stay at Hogwarts also meant that he was free to go to Hogsmeade whenever he so chose, and found himself travelling down now and then either for the scenery, for a stroll around the bookshop, or for a Butterbeer because even Tom had to admit that they were delicious. And without the stress of having to posture for his fellow Slytherins, he felt more calm.

His absolute favourite thing however, was whenever he and Harry - he'd given Tom permission to call him by name since they'd officially be coworkers come September! - sat down for tea. And tea was never just tea. It was talking. Either about Defence, Grindelwald's War, World War 2, or their different opinions on controversial topics.

Harry also felt that the wizarding war was ridiculous. He held absolutely no respect for Gellert Grindelwald and explained exactly why.

The symbol the man used was that of the Deathly Hallows. The items belonging to The Necromancers Three. A myth told that Death had gifted the very objects to the brothers when they'd cleverly evaded a gruesome death at the being's hands. The one to gather all objects was supposed to become immortal and the Master of Death or so the legend proclaimed.

Grindelwald had perverted a simple story from Britain's roots. He used the symbol of the Deathly Hallows to spread fear and hatred across the European Continent. Enough for people to misunderstand what it originally was meant to mean. And while he was slowly trying to take over, he was also searching for something precious to him.

The odd attacks and the strange behaviour he'd been exhibiting for several months now, was finally explained.

According to Harry, the man was searching for the most powerful wand in existence. He truly believed it existed and was murdering people left, right, and center just to get his hands on it. And he wanted the Elder Wand as much as he wanted the Resurrection Stone and the Invisibility Cloak. He wanted immortality and was causing a ridiculous amount of strife just to get it.

Tom's method had been better if he was to be so bold as to claim. The ritual had hurt of course, but it had been quick and easy enough to perform both times he'd done it. No unnecessary bloodshed involved. No more exertion than a flick of the wrist and the drawing of Runes.

But Gellert had blinded himself by his own greed. Yet he also proved how selfish he was. As Tom had noted months before, he wasn't doing this to help the wizarding world. Grindelwald wanted to rule over everyone. He wanted them all to bow down, magicals and muggles alike. And that was why Tom thought his idea was stupid.

He was also incredibly bitter over his hand in Hitler rising to power because the man and his following had put Tom through some hell as a child and he hated them all!

Tom couldn't wait for Harry to just finish Grindelwald off for good. He was waiting for it, but knew he had to be patient if he wanted to win that bet he'd participated in.

But slipping the idea into their conversations was easy enough. Especially since Harry was already angry at the Dark Lord's actions. It would take one truly terrible thing to make him go after Grindelwald personally.

Other things they talked about were magical creatures. Harry was very adamant that they deserved rights, especially those with a level of sentience. He had read the recently published Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newton Scamander, and found himself siding with the magizoologist on many things. He then happily explained some of his experiences with magical creatures.

House Elves, Dragons, Gnomes, Thestrals, Basilisks, Cornish Pixies, Dementors, Boggarts, Acromantulas, Merfolk, Grindylows, Demiguises, Phoenixes, and so much more. He'd come to understand them and felt that just because each could be dangerous, didn't mean they deserved to be killed off and sold for potions ingredients. That just because some were considered Dark, didn't mean they were evil and must be eradicated.

The man was a firmly Grey wizard and Tom had to be honest when he said that he'd met no one as split down the middle as Potter.

The only thing that annoyed him about his stay at Hogwarts, was Dumbledore's presence. Everything else was perfection!

* * *

Tom stared down at the stationary in his hand. It was a light shade of blue and the script was golden and glittering. He didn't read too much into that for his own sanity.

It was an invitation to dinner. With the Potters. Charmont and Ella Potter to be precise. And the invitation had been given to him by Harry, who had been lightly flushed as he handed it over while saying, "Ellie wanted me to give you her letter. She said you needed some new correspondence."

Lady Potter wanted Tom to come to a dinner she and her husband were having. A dinner that was, according to her letter, just between them and Harry, and Tom if he decided to come.

And the difference between being invited to a Potter's home, verses being invited to a Malfoy's home, was that the Malfoys had a negative agenda no matter what. Ella Potter actually seemed like a decent person and while she had been a Slytherin in her youth, she'd willingly married a Gryffindor and let him mellow her out.

Also, while she certainly had an agenda as well, it most likely had to do with her attempts to match Tom and Harry together. So such an agenda worked to his benefit and wasn't being done with malicious intent. She wasn't planning on using him later, he was certain. And he couldn't find it in himself to believe that Charmont Potter had a manipulative bone in his body. The man had a reputation for being generous and a bit naive.

So with all of this in mind, Tom decided to put his quill to the parchment and write out his acceptance of their hospitality. This could also be a chance for him to learn more about Professor Potter and it would be foolish to pass it up. This would give Tom the upper hand over everyone else and establish a more secure connection between he and the man he most admired.

And because Tom coveted attention and information and things others didn't know because they would put him above them, nothing would pass from his lips to his followers. They didn't deserve the privilege of knowing Harry Potter like Tom would. Tom liked to keep his most treasured possessions close and any knowledge about Harry Potter was to be kept unlock and key in his own, impenetrable mind.

* * *

He was welcomed with wide smiles from the Potters and a shocked look from his… coworker. Harry obviously hadn't known he would show up, and Tom was thrilled to be a surprise.

The man was also attired in the most fanciful robes Tom had ever seen on him. Potter didn't often resort to magical clothing, preferring more freedom of movement in the newer, more modern clothes being introduced through various trade agreements with other nations. He was most likely dressed so well for the Heads of his House.

"It's so lovely to see you, Mr. Riddle," Ella said with a smile. "I've been dying to pick your brain over certain topics. This is my husband, Charmont."

Charmont was a messy-haired brunet with blue/green eyes, a sharp jaw, and a charming smile ironically. He was the same height as Tom at 186 cm, and came across as a kind individual upon first glance.

"Good to know you," the man said with a calm smile. "My Ella has had many a thing to say about your first meeting. I do hope you and our Harry get on well enough, yes?"

Tom plastered a not so fake smile on his face, genuinely pleased to speak about his former professor. "Harry is a diamond in the rough, sir."

Said man sputtered, his face taking on a lovely shade of pink.

"Come! Come! Dinner is being served as we speak and I want to get all the details from Mr. Riddle!" prompted Ella, shooing them toward one of the many open rooms off to the right of the grand, marble foyer of Potter Manor.

* * *

Dinner was a lavish affair. Not as pompous as something a Malfoy would host, thank Merlin, but still proper as expected of a Pureblood family. Though there were no veiled insults being thrown around and no one seemed to be trying to outdo another.

Tom had been asked every possible question under the sun, and occasionally Harry would be called into the conversation to give his input on certain topics. Ella seemed endlessly fascinated by whatever Tom responded with, and constantly sent Harry knowing looks that he seemed to pointedly ignore in favour of his wine. And he ended up drinking a lot of wine as a result.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle is such a unique name," said Charmont at some point near dessert. "It makes you sound mysterious and I find it to be fitting."

His smile became a little more forced. "The other children in the orphanage mocked me for it. Marvolo isn't a muggle name and they said it only made me weirder. I have come to dislike my name. Tom is bland, Marvolo is too strange, and Riddle sounds very..." He couldn't even finish his thought. He hated being connected to that piece of filth.

Ella smiled with understanding. "I know all about hating your given name, Tom. My true name is Avariella and I despise it. Sure, it means 'woman of great strength' but it sounds atrocious to my ear. Thankfully, Charmont was very understanding and adopted my nickname easily," the woman said, aiming a dazzling smile at her husband who smiled back with just as much affection.

"I like both of your names," Harry interjected quickly, pouting. "Names that make you think twice. Interesting sounding in my opinion. A sense of strength to them."

Ella beamed and Tom flushed lightly, looking away from the man's imploring, green eyes. Harry Potter had this odd affect on him and it wasn't fair!

* * *

"I apologise for my aunt's curiosity this evening. Ella tends to like to talk and she takes issue with not knowing enough of anything," Potter said with a small but mischievous smile that made Tom's heart flutter abnormally in his chest. "She means well."

"She is good company," Tom decided to say. "I like her." He was shocked at how true it was. The woman had been very interesting to speak with and she was very sly as she managed to drag Harry into the conversation by somehow finding a similarity between he and Tom for her to comment on.

Tom had learned that his former professor loved green. That he once Apparated when he was a child. That he could regrow his hair immediately if it was ever cut too short. And sometimes he would change his teacher's appearance whenever they annoyed him. Such as turning someone's hair blue for criticising how he did his homework.

During his childhood, Tom had done similar things, and it had been refreshing to hear that Potter was very much the same. Tom used to hate it when anybody did the exact same thing as him. He had always had the desire to be unique. Finding out about magic had been in both parts amazing and terrible because it meant he wasn't the only one and he wasn't as special as he thought he was.

This kind of attitude followed him well up until this point in his life. He liked being able to do things others couldn't. He liked knowing things others never would, or would have to rely on him into order to learn. And yet when he found out that him and the man he admired most were a lot similar than at first glance, it made him feel... dare he say, tingly inside.

He'd somehow gotten an invitation to return to Potter Manor in the future for their small celebration for Harry's birthday which was coming up on the thirty-first of July. Exactly six months away form Tom's birthday.

He had to think about the gift he should get the man. Potter had given him Slytheirn's Locket for his birthday. He'd found one of the only things remaining from Tom's family's history and had returned it to him instead of keeping the priceless artifact for himself. Not many people would ever do such a thing. How could Tom possibly top that?

Harry liked Quidditch, so a broom would probably work. At the same time he was a Potter and they had money. Anything Tom got him could be easily acquired on his own if he didn't already have it. Tom _had_ to be unique.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **[1]** It's my birthday. August 3rd. A review could be a gift.

 **How was it? Let me know!**

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 **See ya! :D**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

* * *

"You're doing really well, but you're still not thinking on your feet. _Everything_ can be used as a weapon depending upon your level of desperation, remember that."

Harry had taken Tom to the Room or Requirement, in which he'd asked for a training room equipped with everything he felt he needed. There were dummies to use. Dummies that fought back if one took too long to cast at them. There were targets to gauge how much magic was being used in a spell. Random statues stood all over the room, as well as places specifically meant for each element.

A large bowl of fire. A similar bowl filled with water. An area that seemed to be just rocky terrain and high winds.

"Most duels are technically not done with the intent to murder your opponent. Unless it's an Honour Duel and a Duel to the Death. Dueling and fighting are different. Can you tell me why?"

"Generally in a fight, all parties involved are aiming to harm the other to some degree."

"Exactly," nodded Harry, looking pleased. "Say you've been attacked by a bully but you don't want to stay around and deal with them, and might not be talented enough to beat them in a one on one. You do what you can to make pursuit harder for them. All those little hexes and jinxes passed around the corridors aren't just for fun."

Harry twirled his wand thrice before whipping it out toward one of the dummies. Immediately, the open mouth snapped shut. "Non-verbal magic isn't something most below seventh year know. Making it so they can't speak will usually render them incapable of casting and they'll need to find someone to remove the spell."

Another swish of the wand and the shoes of the dummy proceeded to melt right off the feet and onto the floor. When the dummy attempted to move, their legs could only twitch from side to side. The feet were essentially stuck to the floor now. "If they can't run, they can't pursue you," said Harry matter-of-factly. "If no one is there to help them, you will surely get away.

"Or you can enlarge some part of their anatomy to make it difficult to balance themselves. I'd say aim for the feet or the arms."

It all made sense. Tom had done similar things when he was still building up the respect he needed to earn. He hadn't _always_ been welcomed in Slytherin House.

"What are the darker and more dangerous applications to these ideas?" Harry asked then, fixing Tom with his guileless green gaze.

He took a moment to truly consider each thing he'd just been shown, and noted many ways immediately. "Cutting off someone's tongue. There is a curse for that and it's borderline Dark Magic, but still legal to be used here." Maybe not for much longer though if things kept going as they were in politics. "You can cut off their feet with a well-placed and powerful Diffindo. Or blow their limbs off entirely with a Bombarda or Reducto."

"Yes. A schoolyard fight would be vastly different from a battle against one of Grindelwald's men. They aren't going to talk first and taunt you. These particular sycophants just do as ordered, which is capture or kill. No dramatic monologues to give you time to plan an escape or argue back. It's do or die with them."

Who would monologue before killing someone? That was ridiculous!

"Now," Potter began as he stepped back to leave Tom closer to the dummy of choice, "I want you to use abnormal methods to halt your attacker but not with intent to kill them. Sometimes restraint is the most important thing you'll have to your name."

The dummy disintegrated into several black orbs that scattered across the stone floor with little tinkling sounds for a few seconds, before rushing back together and reforming the dummy as it was before magic was cast upon it. The dummy then took an offensive stance, prompting Tom to go on the defensive.

* * *

Tom had been looking into unique forms of magic recently in his free time. While unfortunate that he couldn't take out more than a single book at a time from the Restricted Section, he was still grateful he could do it at all.

So far he'd just been looking for something that would give him an idea of what to do for Potter's birthday. Tom was relatively poor for the time being. Until his bet with the Slytherins came true, he wouldn't have much money to himself for the foreseeable future. Unless students came to him for tutoring again and paid him.

That could be beneficial.

But back to his studying.

Obscure magics not often used any longer were things like protective jewelry. Magical Smithing was difficult enough as it was, but making it protective required Runes, which Tom was excellent at. And he was naturally a prodigy who understood magic a lot better than his peers ever did. So if he put his mind to it he might be able to craft something for Potter for his birthday instead of purchasing something. The book simply didn't tell him _how_ to Smith magically.

This saw Tom going down to the Chamber when he finally had the opportunity. Meaning, Dumbledore wasn't around to stalk him like usual when he wasn't with Harry.

There were many things hidden in the chamber by Salazar's family. After he left the school, his descendants decided to hide things within in so outsiders couldn't find them. He hadn't had time to explore in his fifth year, but he had all the time he needed now. And the Basilisk refused to come out of her mourning so it was just Tom on his own.

Parseltongue was dead useful. Even if the school somehow managed to find the Chamber and blast their way in, they wouldn't be able to access the hidden places behind every wall without Parseltongue on their side. And with how certain people treated Slytherins, no Parselmouth would willingly help such an expedition.

He found letters, which were boring. Some jewels which he decided to take. Only the green ones though. Harry looked best in green. Some journals here and there. Usually about current events of their days.

A historian would probably consider it a treasure trove. Tom saw it all as a bit dull, though that wouldn't stop him for memorising every word anyway. He hated not knowing things and he wanted to better understand the family he came from.

Finally, it was at Salazar's feet, that he found something more impressive.

A book on Salazar's favourite magics! It had been located in the big toe of the statue, which had split in half to reveal a small stack of books when he hissed at it. And in Parselscript, on the 113th page, was a description of Magical Smithing with Salazar's own personal drawings as a guide. He recognised the writing and art from the first book he'd borrowed from Potter last term.

Most people just went to the Goblins when they wanted something created, but Tom wasn't so foolish. When the Goblins created something they considered it property of the Goblin Nation and believed they were only lending it out. Upon death, it was required to be returned to the Goblin that forged it.

Doing the work himself would save him not only a lot of money in the end, but a lot of time and arguments as well. Goblins were hard-headed folk and they could argue for far longer than wizards would have the patience to bother arguing.

* * *

The concept was basic. Silver and emeralds. Silver was considered pure for some reason, and using it in these types of creations was most beneficial in a protective measure.

He started with the basics as Salazar's book described. Warming the metal with his magic. He'd taken the metal from the stash he'd found in the Chamber and had already stripped it of its former decorations and designs. He then held it between his palms and closed his eyes.

Tom was intimately familiar with his own magical core. He knew how to manipulate his magic and had being doing so since he was a child. His additional training in Occlumency had been beneficial in building up his levels of patience and concentration.

Warming the metal was important in order to begin shaping it. Magical Smithing was not done with hammers or even wands. It was solely magic which was why it was so difficult and rarely taught these days. One needed a good imagination as well as skillful control over their core to be able to pull off the intended effects properly.

His first session with the metal was successful in that after five hours, he managed to heat the silver up enough to mould it in his hands. Much like clay.

The experience had drained him enough for him to oversleep that night, so he had to only do small parts at a time.

* * *

By Tom's fifth time at it, he was finally getting the ring shape down. Of course it wasn't going to be a ring, but the shape was necessary if it was to be worn on Harry's wrist at Tom intended.

In his mind's eye he envisioned a plaited design. Tom liked plaits in long hair. The more intricate they were, the more impressed he was. If Tom ever let his hair grow out, he would plait it.

Returning to the subject at hand, or rather _in_ hand, he wanted to plait the silver. Potter had never given any indication that he would wear jewelry but even if he didn't, the man would still accept the gift as it was and would probably be thankful for it anyway. It was the thought and effort that counted the most after all, or so Tom had heard before.

Once he finished the Smithing part, he could add the protections to it.

It had been a while since Tom was this excited about a project.

* * *

His first meeting with his… acquaintances outside of school. Where they all were now legally adults and could in theory do whatever they wanted now. Sometimes that was not a good thing for those like Crabbe and Goyle.

It was times like this where Tom was reminded that most people were not like Harry and that they were annoying and frustrating.

Abraxas was still immature. Nott was still skittish around Tom, though for good reason. The rest were pretty much background characters, which was a bit sad now that he considered them.

Suddenly his group in school seemed a bit ridiculous. _This_ was what he'd decided to surround himself with? And the whole of Slytherin had deferred to them all? Tom was understandable since he could make anyone hurt without lifting a finger. The rest though?

Not fear or awe inspiring.

"I've obtained an Apprenticeship in the Ministry with my father, my Lord," Greengrass said upon the start of their meeting. "This will get me through the early stages of Auror training without much hassle."

"Well done."

Parkinson also had good news. "I am now working at the Daily Prophet as an editor. I am a bit shocked I got the job immediately but apparently it's more difficult to get people willing to deal with news during a war because they're afraid of being targeted if they say something controversial? Grindelwald isn't even anywhere near us."

"That could change at any moment of course," Tom murmured into his Butterbeer. He didn't like alcoholic beverages all that much and Butterbeer was divine. "We mustn't get complacent just because he's left us alone _so far_."

"Yes, my Lord," the rest of the group agreed in low tones so as not to draw attention of other patrons. Madam Rosmerta wasn't difficult to deal with but she was a bit of a busybody and liked to know people's business.

Tom didn't want to deal with her flirtations any more than he had to so it was best to not draw upon her attention.

"You will all continue working toward the future. Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious however and report it to me if you feel it's necessary."

* * *

The work on the gift continued, though he felt a little rushed because it was already 10 July and he had only twenty-one days to finish the work. And the thing was, he'd technically already finished the plaited ring, but had decided that he wanted more details in the plait itself because he was an overachiever and wanted to impress the man he admired even more.

So he'd spent an extra ten days adding little designs one by one so the ring would stand out even more. He hadn't even gotten around to adding the emeralds yet.

There weren't many though and luckily all had been shaped prior to this. He'd just plucked them out of other pieces of jewelry and called it a day. Said jewelry would never be used again anyway and he was Slytherin's Heir, so he could put the components to use if he wanted.

It was some time a few days later where he began to panic a bit. Setting gems into metal wasn't easy. They tended to slide around when he tried.

The book said that he needed to envision a place for the gem to go in the metal. And his mental image had to be spot on. With his mind palace, his mental imagery was perfection! So why wasn't he getting this part down?!

Learning new skills by oneself was always more stressful when you didn't have a live demonstration to base your actions off of. A two dimensional drawing wasn't enough to help him understand what he was supposed to accomplish here!

The gems _had_ to be a part of the gift! Silver as it was was simply too plain for one such as Harry!

* * *

He took a break between all the work he'd piled into his own shoulders, in order to got down to Hogsmeade and, like everyone else, listen in on the wireless. The International Dueling Championship had begun and Harry was competing. Tom had promised to listen in even though he'd already planned to but the promise seemed to make Harry happy which was good.

The pub was filled with people. Some reputable and some not so fortunate. But everyone was there for the same reason. They wanted to know how Hogwarts' Deputy Headmaster fared against other, more experienced duelists.

Already he'd beaten his first opponent. Some Japanese witch who had been too easily taken down for Tom to care about remembering her name.

The duels went in a specific order and could span from the nine seconds like Harry's, to the half hour like the one between Joan Jacobs and Laurent Baudelaire. After the matches finished, which ended up being two hours alone, the rest of the names were placed into a magical hat that sorted them into new duels.

Originally there were one hundred applicants. After the first round, there were forty-six. A double knockout had occurred twice. Harry's next opponent was someone by the name of Samuel Puckett, who was an American. The commentators made him sound wretched. Someone Tom would probably be willing to resort to punching like a muggle brawler.

Their duel lasted a lot longer than Harry's first. Apparently, the man, who was in his fifties, was very good at elemental manipulation. He changed the complete nature of one of Harry's ice spells and then sent it back at him twice as fast in the form of a fire spell!

Harry had promised Tom a chance to see the memories later on, but he felt it would be too long until then! He wanted to see that manoeuvre in person! He should have gone with him, but he didn't have money to buy a ticket to watch. The broadcast on the radio was free though. And Tom was too proud to take up Harry's offer to pay for a ticket. It was one thing to let him stay at the school over the summer, it was another to just be giving Tom handouts he didn't need.

Besides, Potter had helped him enough as it was already and for once in his life, Tom did _not_ want to be overly greedy. Because he actually cared about Potter's opinion of him compared to everyone else he'd ever met.

When Harry was announced the winner of his duel, the entire pub erupted in cheers and everyone near simultaneously took a long drink in celebration. There were only three British competitors who had been approved to join the Championship, and as Harry was the last one still in the competition, the people cheered for him out of solidarity to their side of the magical community and no other reason.

After another hour of patient listening, the first day of dueling was concluded with twenty-three competitors left.

Tom left the pub with full confidence that Harry would win again.

* * *

Grindelwald was trekking across Europe again and as Tom had said, it wasn't smart to get too comfortable. He was getting closer and closer to Hogwarts. Italy, Switzerland, and now France? Tom didn't know what the objective was, but he was coming further and further west, which wasn't good in the end.

Every magical newspaper was ranting about it. Their own population was becoming unsettled. Dumbledore's words weren't even considered because his drastic change in status in the last year alone. The trust in him had pretty much vanished save for the support from his friends.

Harry didn't seem worried though. Tom wasn't certain if it was just because he was confident in his abilities, or if he genuinely didn't find Grindelwald to be a threat. Neither would surprise Tom in the slightest. Harry Potter didn't seem like the kind of person who would let a wizard extremist bother him. Sometimes it felt like Harry had already dealt with someone like Grindelwald before.

It was ten months until Harry could fight Grindelwald if Tom wanted to win that bet. Nothing could happen before then.

And of course the new Dueling Master would win.

Grindelwald had the presence. He seemed to be a very good public speaker. Memories extracted from people who'd attended his secret meetings in hopes of gaining followers, showed that he was very charismatic. Much like Tom no matter how much Tom hated to admit it.

But over the past few years his campaign had become frantic in a sense. Less and less of his calm personality had been shown. he seemed to be searching for something and was repeatedly frustrated at not finding it. And when the magical communities her terrorised couldn't provide him with what he wanted, they suffered major losses.

Tom didn't find him to be someone worthy of respect. Not now anyway.

* * *

It had been finished! With literally hours to spare, Tom had managed to finish the gift he'd been working on!

All that stress he'd put himself under just seemed to melt away and he felt at peace finally. Between the training, researching, and meetings, he'd managed to finish his first attempt at Magical Smithing. And the most impressive part was that while it was indeed plaited, the the ends of either side were the most important.

He might have added a bit more pressure on himself when he got the bright idea to make if a snake as well. More specifically, one side was the head and the other was the tail. In order to clasp it, the tail would have to be hooked over the fangs inside the mouth, like an ouroboros. And when Tom considered Harry Potter, he reminded Tom of what the ouroboros stood for. A harmony of opposites, renewal, and unity.

He'd made the eyes emeralds because how could he pass up such an opportunity?

All he had left to do was apply the Runes and honestly, it was the easiest part of the whole process because he knew how to use Runes already.

Potter would be protected from magic wishing to do him harm, from the elements, and from basic external penetration of the mind.

* * *

"That is lovely," said Ella Potter as Harry opened his gift from Tom. The box had been small, black, and unassuming. When he opened it though, the bracelet seemed to glow, demanding all attention.

Harry reached out to trail an awed finger over the design. "Where did you get it, Tom?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

And suddenly he was feeling self-conscious as all three Potters turned to look at him expectantly. He'd been very confident at the thought of giving the gift but now that he was in the moment, he wasn't as confident.

Averting his gaze, Tom revealed, "I made it."

Total silence. He was suddenly stressed again and could feel his heart beating not inly in his chest, but in his throat and at the tips of his fingers too.

"You-you _made_ it?" asked Charmont, sounding mystified. "As in you crafted it _yourself_?"

"Yes."

"As in Magical Smithing?" the man continued.

"Yes."

Ella touched Tom's arm, drawing his attention instantly. She was staring up at him with wide, golden topaz eyes full of wonder. "How long did it take, Tom?"

"About a month and a half," he admitted in embarrassment. "It took a shamefully long time to complete."

Both husband and wife shared a look while Harry remained captivated by the bracelet itself.

"Tom, Magical Smithing takes time. Even great masters of the art can take months at a time. Was this your first attempt?"

"...Yes."

"That's damn impressive!" Charmont said with a wide grin.

Tom flushed and waited for Harry to say something. His reaction was what Tom was looking forward to the most. But the man simply stood there, rubbing his index finger over the plaited body of the snake, and looking stunned.

"I love it," his former professor whispered, and Tom felt like he was _soaring_. "It's one of the best gifts I've ever received."

Harry unclasped the snake and looked it over more closely. "You even added protective Runes to it." He slipped it on and then held his hand out to Tom for a little assistance while he held it in place.

Tom clasped the tail into the mouth, ignoring the strange tingles all over his fingers from where their skin connected for just those few seconds.

"We've been outdone!" announced Charmont, yet he looked pleased. "But it was far more impressive than what we got Harry. If you feel like making that your chosen career, you'd be very successful."

Tom never wanted to smith again actually. But knowing he was good enough to make it a career if he ever needed to was nice.

And then something he hadn't ever expected happened. Harry leaned over and placed a sweet kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Tom," the man said softly.

Tom didn't believe in heaven but he would swear he ascended anyway. And he completely ignored Ella Potter's suggestive brow wiggling from behind her nephew in order to focus on how light-headed he felt.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

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	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**

-This chapter was finished months ago, for the most part. It  
was long enough and everything, but I chose to hold off on  
posting because it didn't feel right to me. Last night I got a  
review and decided to re-read the whole fic, plus this chap  
to see what was missing. I found it too. It was just detail.  
Some of the writing was just bland. I fixed it while I added  
1,000 words!

* * *

"You know, I don't want to try to control the way you do things in your life, but if you go and get a Mastery in Magical Smithing, it'll look very good on any resume you decide to build in the future."

Tom's tea cup paused against his lips as he considered Harry's words. Applying for a Mastery was a free process. And he was very young. People his age didn't often get Masteries. Especially ones centered around dying arts that were rarely mentioned anymore since it usually took extra effort to find information about them and he had the benefit of Salazar's knowledge on his side.

"Technically, you could apply for a Mastery in many subjects. Magical Smithing, Runes, Arithmancy, Legilimency, Occlumency, Defence, Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. And for a few of those, you were self-taught. Such notes would go over well with most people and even if you end up in another profession, your status as a Master would have you called upon often by others. Few people in our community are Masters in Legilimency or Occlumency for example and you could be called in to help the Unspeakables should they have need of your… abilities."

Suddenly the idea had become very appealing. "Having multiple Masteries would make me come across as more capable, yes?" Trustworthy. Hard-working. Dedicated. If someone was to see that he'd achieved Masteries in many subjects, they'd be impressed and more willing to put their faith in him. They'd most likely take him more seriously then, and consider everything he had to say as something valuable.

If he ever personally got into politics, that could greatly help with his ideas in moving forward. And it would draw his acquaintances even closer to him because it was in a Slytherin's nature to want to be near greatness.

"You're already Apprenticed to a Defence Master who will be going for a Runes Mastery soon. With a proper attitude, good support base, and necessary skills, you could probably obtain all those Masteries before you're thirty," Harry told him confidently.

It would be around twelve years until then, but at the same time that was such a short span of time for wizards. Nine Masteries in twelve years sounded impossible to the ear, but Tom did like challenges and he always came out on top eventually.

And he liked the benefits. If Tom was one of the very few Masters of a certain Art in Britain alone, he would be asked for assistance. Could probably charge outlandish prices simply because someone's desperation didn't let them think clearly. He very much liked the idea of it.

Also proving himself better than others by holding multiple Masteries at once sounded appealing. Tom was a narcissist first and foremost.

* * *

"We're going to explore my memories of the duels," said Harry as he held up a kit full of several vials of different colours, all bearing a different label on them. "Unaltered as promised. Choose which you wish to start with."

Tom squinted at the man's atrocious writing and plucked Duel 5 from the case.

According to Potter, they were borrowing the Headmaster's Pensieve for this lesson. He'd never seen one in person before, and committed the ornate markings in the bowl to memory. They looked like Runes, but unfamiliar ones, so mostly likely those from another culture.

"Pour the memory into the basin and dip your head inside."

The memory was silver as it poured out, but turned black the moment it hit the liquid within the Pensieve. Tom took a deep breath and followed Harry's order.

The Dueling Championship had been held in a massive outdoor stadium as large as Hogwarts' Quidditch Pitch. And the space where the duels took place was just like his and Harry's Room of Requirement training had been. Every element available to make things interesting.

The stands were filled with people holding up flags from different countries and cheering on their favourite competitors.

Said competitors were standing on the sidelines looking agitated as they had to wait for their turns.

A horn blew and a portly witch in bright yellow and black striped robes took center-field, her wand activating the Sonorous Charm. "We are ready to begin the Fifth Round! The first competitors up are Harry Potter of Great Britain and John Crawford of the United States!"

The cheers erupted from the stands.

Tom backed up until he was certain he was out of the way of the entire duel as the announcer shot off red sparks with her wand.

The four duels Harry had been through before this one were enough to make his opponent skeptical of him. He didn't rush in with his wand waving and spells flying. Instead, the blond man across the field stood perfectly still and waited, his blue eyes trained only on Harry in a manner that Tom did not appreciate.

Harry mimicked his opponent, stance casual and face passive. The two let the minutes pass them by, the silence rendering the crowd into a mass of confusion.

Eventually, it seemed that Crawford had lost whatever patience he'd been trying to show off, and whipped his wand out in an upward arc. A streak of flames followed the movement like a whip, and when the wand lashed out again, the whip snapped toward Harry's position.

Of course Harry quickly proved why the majority of Slytherin was looking to him to defeat Grindelwald. Instead of pulling up a barrier of any sort to protect himself, Harry quite literally took two steps to his right, allowing the fire whip to pass his left shoulder without a backwards glance. He didn't even blink.

The whip retracted and then lashed out once again, and once again, Harry manoeuvered himself around it, avoiding what would no doubt be a painful feeling if he had been unfortunate enough to get wrapped up in it.

There wasn't even a magical application to this, it was simply Harry being observant enough to predict where the whip would go specifically and simply moving to a position away from the targeted area.

Crawford didn't seem to appreciate Harry's treatment of his skills. Perhaps to a fool it looked as if Harry was mocking him, but if Harry was honestly good enough to avoid damage without having to use magic, then why tire himself out of he didn't have to? It would be pointless otherwise.

Common sense should be a thing utilised by everyone in Tom's opinion. It could honestly save one's life one day.

"Fight back, damn you!" Crawford eventually yelled.

Harry cocked an arched, perfectly plucked brow, and flicked his Holly wand once. Nothing seemed to happen and Crawford cackled. "Not so talented, are you? That's why you keep running away!"

And then Crawford's entire body jerked out of nowhere, and his hands rushed to his face to rub at his nose. He seemed to forget that he was holding a literal whip of fire and with his wand suddenly in his face again, the whip snapped back the way it came and Crawford got a face full of burns as punishment for his boasting.

The stadium erupted in applause and cheering, the astounded faces hanging out so openly. It was because Harry wasn't very intimidating in figure and didn't look like someone capable of much beyond looking pretty. But he'd proved their assumptions wrong so effortlessly!

Harry had won using only a tickling charm. Honestly, Tom shouldn't be surprised by his strange approach to magic.

* * *

"What did you observe?" Harry asked pensively the moment he was freed from the memory.

Tom shook himself in order to center his thoughts and stop the mild vertigo he was feeling. "He was very cocksure, but mostly in an attempt to hide that he was actually unnerved by you. You got that far so you had to be a threat in some way and when you didn't use magic to fight back and just kept avoiding his attacks, he became even more frustrated and attempted to goad you into fighting."

It was a pathetic attempt. Crawford was not so good with words as to manipulate anyone into anything. He would be a poor public speaker.

"He also knew how to use a whip," Tom added. "Very well. The flickings of his wrist spoke of experience." Tom was very well aware of how a whip was used. It took a lot of time to acclimate oneself to the proper motions if one wanted the best results.

"Correct. Anything else?"

He had to think for a moment. "He was impatient but also lacked common sense. He should have tried something else when you dodged the whip for the third time. Simply relying on the same technique for several minutes was foolish of him, and it rendered his arm tired after a certain amount of time elapsed. His form became sloppy and slow and even more predictable than before."

"Exactly. In essence, nothing particularly impressive. What would you have done differently?"

Against Harry? Tom already knew Harry. He'd been dueling Harry for weeks. Compared to Crawford, Tom already had a bit over him in terms of ' _knowing his enemy_ '. He could formulate better ideas easily, though whether they'd actually work against Harry was an entirely different thing altogether.

Still…

"I would have learned a better version of the spell. A single whip is relatively easy to dodge because it is thin and can only go in one direction, but a cat o' nine tails is not. You aren't fast enough to dodge nine individual strips of flame no matter how talented you are."

Harry nodded, seemingly envisioning the very scenario and twirling his wand experimentally. "And if that failed?"

"Probably something involving animals. I've very good at controlling animals and most people are very hesitant to harm an animal, especially if they think it looks cute." He could capitalise off their hesitancy and then take them down.

"Interesting."

* * *

Dinner with the Malfoy family. It hadn't been since Yule that Tom had visited the Malfoys and he honestly found himself bored of them. Though it was incredibly useful that they felt indebted to him(and that was only because of Harry) he just didn't find them as interesting as he had before.

It was so strange how his way of thinking had changed so much.

During dinner, Tom had been asked a simple question. "How have things been for you, Tom?"

And he had to think about it for a moment.

"Considerably well if I ignore Dumbledore stalking my every movement," he'd answered. "I am Apprenticed to Harry Potter now."

Abraxas beamed, looking as if he had a million questions that he was only barely keeping himself from asking. His father however, merely looked politely interested.

"Our son told us you seemed less enthused the last time you met up for lunch," Lord Malfoy said calmly, not even looking up from his plate. "Are you well?"

An interesting place to insert this information. "I am am merely conflicted after I learned some sensitive information about the Slytherin family."

All three Malfoy's stiffened and turned to look at him with full interest.

"Oh?" Lady Malfoy asked.

"Indeed. Professor Potter is actually also related to the Gaunts and he is also a Parselmouth. As such he has managed to acquire many tomes about both the Slytherins and the Gaunts and has allowed me to study them. They are in Parselscript however, so it took time. I have learned that the enmity between Salazar and Godric had nothing to do with Mundanes, and everything to do with Godric's wife's younger sister starting a fight with Salazar's son over his pet snake."

"Mundanes?" Abraxas repeated with obvious confusion.

"Their older term for Muggles," Tom clarified. "Salazar sent his son away because Godric overreacted and when he found out he was in the wrong, he refused to take anything he'd done and said back, which lead to Salazar leaving as well after a time because he was too frustrated with Godric's childish behaviour."

"Ho-how did the story change then?" asked Abraxas, looking a good mix between horrified and baffled. "How could a fight over a snake escalate into him being pure evil?"

"It seems we've allowed the other Houses to dictate our Founder to us," said Tom plainly. "The whole story about the his monster is a lie. The Basilisk exists but not to cleanse the school of Muggleborns. All the Founders had a 'monster' that served to protect the school. Godric had a dragon that fell in battle, Helga had a Phoenix that still lingers around the property when it wants to be seen, Rowena had a Sphinx that was sold off centuries ago, and Salazar had a Basilisk that fell alongside Godric's dragon. So Salazar bred another to protect the children and left it there for any of his blood to make use of should the school need its greatest defence again."

The looks of shock and minor outrage on their faces was somewhat amusing and also sad at the same time. This went against everything they had ever learned about their House Founder after all.

"Essentially, we've been lead astray by the very people who hate us for the House we're Sorted into." If Tom was going to change something, he'd at least make certain proper blame was placed.

* * *

A knock on door of his rooms made Tom frown. No one ever visited him because there was no one around that would need or want to. And it was always _him_ going to see Harry.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by the sight of one Ella Potter smiling up at him with mischief all over her face. "Hello, Tom. Care to come on a walk with this old woman?"

And the first thing out of his mouth was an offended, "You are not _old_. Dumbledore is old. Ancient even." He added last bit just to be petty.

Ella snorted behind her hand in a very unladylike fashion and nodded. "Such a charmer, Tom. He's only seven years older than me."

Briefly he had to wonder what happened because she looked so young and Dumbledore _didn't_.

Tom held his hand out and his cloak laid itself over his arm a second later. He didn't know why Elle was there at all but he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to speak with her if she really wanted to talk to him. He actually liked her company.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked as he stepped into the third floor corridor swinging his cloak over his shoulders.

"Not really. I'm merely going to have lunch with Harry and I thought you'd like to join us. You're always so alone down here. It's not healthy, you know."

"I'm not alone. I spend a lot of time with Harry," he defended since it was the literal truth. He spent so much time with Harry and still managed to not be bored of seeing his beautiful face.

She sent him an unimpressed look, left brow angled down to give the look more character. "All this time with him and you _still_ haven't made a move. You need help."

Oh Merlin! He was getting courtship assistance from Harry's aunt. He didn't know if he should be embarrassed that his interest was so obvious to her, or grateful that she was in full support of it and wanted to see it blossom into something more.

Ella linked arms with him and gave his shoulder a fond by pitying pat. "It's really not that difficult. Harry is a bit dense but once things are more clear he will be more than receptive."

The entire afternoon was filled with Ella making certain to drag complements out of the both of them for each other. She also managed to get Tom to blush, which was a feat no other but Harry had managed. It was obvious she'd been a Slytherin. She was devious and single-minded in her purpose and didn't bat a single lash at her nephew's mortified sputtering.

And yet it was all worth it in the end just to see Harry so carefree and happy. While he hadn't been sad or dispassionate while teaching, he held a personal belief on how teachers should act when around their students. So the familiarity and fun behaviour he had shown all afternoon, was something new.

Tom felt privileged that he even got to witness it. Seeing sides of Harry Potter that others didn't get to, made him float.

Literally.

Sometimes he got so excited about Harry that he'd lose his connection to the Earth for a few seconds. It was embarrassing. Thankfully no one had noticed it yet.

* * *

"The school year is starting next week," remarked Harry that evening at dinner. They'd had a long day of training in dueling and this was the time they could indulge. Harry was eying up the platter of treacle tart the House Elves had brought for after supper.

"It'll be interesting to see the Great hall from a different angle." They took their meals together for the most part. Or Tom went to the kitchens personally in an effort to avoid Dumbledore. He hadn't stepped foot in the Great hall once that summer, and it had been marvelous!

Harry snorted. "You'll realise just how big it is then. It can almost feel overwhelming at times. So many students. So many faces. You can't even see them all perfectly near the double doors at the far end."

To Tom it sounded spectacular. Of course it could just be his happiness over getting to be in Hogwarts still. Not having to leave his true home behind could be blinding him.

"Have you already worked out your schedules?" Harry asked him, setting his plate aside and pulled the entire platter of treacle tart closer. As they were for him to begin with, Tom wasn't offended by the the gluttonous reaction.

They'd already discussed it. Tom would be taking over the classes for the first through third years. Harry had deemed him prepared enough to handle that much work, and had already bestowed much wisdom on how to handle assignments and such. And he had Harry's own example to base his own teaching style off of. Despite him originally being incensed in regards to it, Harry's method truly worked. He raised the grade average of the entire school simply because his class touched upon applications from nearly every other class in the school and his Dueling Club had been a great help.

With Tom taking on some classes, Harry's schedule would be freed up so he could dedicate the proper time to his Deputy duties. And there were so many to see to! Every day he had something to do, even in the summer!

"I have everything set up," he told the man confidently. "Though I wouldn't mind if you'd like to look over what I've come up with."

Harry's smile could make him believe in angels, it was just that fetching. That innocent. How had he existed this long and manage to be so untarnished?

"You've come a long way, Tom. I'm proud of your progress."

Tom was not blushing he was simply a little overheated still from the intense workout Harry had put him through. His clothes were hot and there was even still sweat on his brow!

There was sweat on Harry too. It made his hair shine and his skin glisten just a bit in the candlelight. And Tom's mouth felt dry suddenly.

"Are you okay, Tom?"

"Fine! Just fine."

He was not fine.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **How was it? Let me know!**

 **Check out my many other Harrymort/Tomarry fics!**

 **See ya! :D**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. MISTER-TOM-A-DILDO-LOVER and HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.**


End file.
